The Ice Is Getting Thinner
by VioletGrey
Summary: Hayley loves Draco-she's always loved him. And fate keeps pushing them together, but then somehow she finds herself engaged to someone else. And the worst part? There is absolutely NOTHING she can do about it. Post HBP
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Note: Like SHMAH, this story is one that I'd already started writing. When I gave up with Quizilla (because, you see—it's now over run with stories like, "I GOT KIDNAPPED BY A VAMPIRE STALKER WHO IS MY BROTHERS BEST FRIEND AND NOW I'M IN LOVE WITH HIM?" or something like, "I HAVE AN ARRANGED MARRIAGE WITH THIS RICH GUY I'VE NEVER MET, AND I HATE IT, BUT I LOVE HIM.") I was on part twenty-ish on this story. It's one that I'm very partial to, because I'm in love with Draco Malfoy. :D

So, I decided to give it a new face, and this is that new face. I hope to finish it this time around, too.

This takes place after the sixth book. I think that's important to know. :)

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"Hayley—why in god's name are you not getting ready?" My mother entered my room holding a large garment bag, she laid it carefully over the bed—then sat another bag on the bed, in which I assumed my shoes were in, then turned to me, "I do not understand why you are sitting at that vanity—with wet hair!" She placed a manicured hand on her forehead, "You're trying to hurt my nerves, aren't you?"

"I wouldn't imagine doing such a thing, Mother." I replied rather coldly, "And to be frank, I just stepped out of the shower about three minutes ago."

She clutched her robe tighter to her chest, the rollers in her hair protruding from her scalp at odd angles, "The ball is in an hour, young lady. As your season begins tonight, you will be ready to meet your father in fifty minutes, _am I clear_?"

I sighed, "Yes, Mother. Crystal." She moved the corners of her lips, in what was a cruel smile.

"Beautiful." Then, turning she left me alone.

The ball was the oldest and most traditional form of punishment. Every teenage girl was presented to pureblood society upon coming of age, and as I had turned seventeen a little less than a month ago, it was now my turn to be presented to society as the debutante that I was. Everyone who mattered in the wizarding society would be here. Pureness of blood was something that needed to be taken into effect. It was practically written on the invitation. I did not even know what my dress looked like—of course, I should not have any say in what it looks like. That would be ridiculous. Trophy women are not supposed to think for themselves (Something that I can never understand nor grasp the concept of).

I picked up my wand and flicked it over my hair. Instantly dry—the stupid muggles could not do that. No, they'd have to spend hours—and in no way would it look as good as mine did. My ridiculously curly hair laid in thick ringlets, nearly to my waist, I leaned over the edge of my vanity, my face nearly pressing against the glass. I was drop dead gorgeous. My tresses were glossy and shiny, my eyes were rounded, and looked slightly surprised. My lips were gentle pink, and in a perfect pucker. My skin nothing but ivory and roses.

I began pulling back pieces from the left side of my part, leaving the right side down and hanging free, pinning them into place with tiny bobby pins. Finishing, I snapped in my antique serpent hair clip—adorned with emeralds and onyx (a family heirloom, of course). It was my personal tribute to the only house worth attributing to—Salazar Slytherin.

I then picked up the crèmes and powders necessary to creating a flawless look. Mudblood's did not spend time on their appearance—and they should. Especially mudblood granger. Her hair looked worse than road kill. Offense, meant.

I cleaned up my ivory skin—letting just enough blush show through on my cheeks for a charming look—and then fixated on my eyes. My wide, multicolored eyes. A ring of green around the pupil, the middles a sea foam blue, and the edges honey brown. I applied dark shadow, making my deep-set eyes even more round—I was such a knock out.

I finished by swiping red lip stick over my lips that put that pureblood turned mudblood lover, Angelina Jolie to shame. I stood up, and walked over to my dress, the moment of arrival was here at last. I only hoped mother hadn't gotten a dress that was too revealing. I only liked the classics.

Unzipping the garment bag, I realized that she hadn't done me any shame. I carefully slid the dress off the hanger, and even more carefully over my head. I zipped up the side and regarded myself in the floor length mirror.

It was black silk—and fit my body snugly. The straps were about an inch thick, and sat dangerously far on my shoulders. The neckline was a sweetheart—and dipped low enough, but not too low. The dress hugged my hips gracefully, and flared out around my calves.

I turned to the side, admiring the back. The dress plunged down treacherously low. Yet, I appeared to be completely covered.

I fished in the bag for shoes, and jewelry—and the must have accessory for every ball—gloves.

For shoes, I had a pair of retro looking things in shiny black—that had been the height of fashion for the last few weeks. I found a diamond necklace—something that merely draped, and hung down low. But no gloves were in the bag. I quickly hooked the necklace—careful of my hair and marched over to my mother's room.

"Yes, Darling?" She inquired as it came to her attention that I was standing in her doorway.

"You've forgotten my gloves."

"No, Silly. You mustn't wear gloves."

"What?" I snapped. That was an outrage—a scandal!

"I want everyone in that room to see your new tattoo." She took my left hand, and twisted it, my palm facing the ceiling.

I looked down at the skull and serpent intertwined, burning in black onto my flesh. My dark mark—I had been a death eater for two weeks now.

"Mother, that's not a good idea. I'm supposed to be elegant and charming this evening."

"Yes, you are supposed to catch everyone's attention and make him or her talk about you. Do not forget—coming out in society is more than just your father and I parading you around in front of boys. You are very much not only wooing them—but their parents as well. I do not know a single mother that would not be impressed about your new tattoo. It is the mother's that you need to worry about, darling. For they very seldom want to let go of their little boys." She focused her eyes on me, as some hair prodigy worked with her flaxen waves.

I'd inherited daddy's raven curls. Much to mother's dismay, and to my own pleasure.

I let out a long sigh, "I wish I was still with Grand Mummy in France," I muttered, turning to leave the room, "She wouldn't have paraded me like some kind of prize."

"I'm doing what's best for you, Hayley, There is nothing wrong with that." Her voice floated into the hall as I gently shut it.

I'd spent the last six years in France—with my dearest Grand Mummy. After Emma had ran off with the mudblood, they had had the hardest time adjusting. Who would blame them? They left the country, and vacationed for a year on Isle Elladora. When they got back, they moved back into the old house in England, and I liked beauxbatons, so I stayed.

It had been so odd to be back here, and I wasn't exactly adjusting well. I did not have the friends that I had been accumulating my entire life. I did not really have anyone. Mum and Dad had Pansy around a few days ago, hoping the girlish festivities of past between us would once again ensue. It was typical for me to have attended the balls that have passed—yet, I had not. I had been far away in France, and I had not been to one of the pureblood soirees since I was eleven. I was now seventeen.

"Knock, Knock, Knock," My father entered—his dress robes, black and emerald. Of course, heritage must be paid, "Ready, hun?"

I tried not to chew on my lip nervously as I walked to greet him by my door. These heels were amazing! I felt as if I were barefoot...

"I need my shoes," I lifted my dress to reveal my bare feet, "I guess I forgot."

"Better put those on, Darling." I giggled, and nodded, slipping my feet into the brand new—and completely unbroken in heels. I would definitely be regretting that in the morning, "You look gorgeous." I shrugged.

"What can I say, Daddy? I try."

Our mansion, was of course, equipped with an elaborate ball room. With entrances on two floors. There, against the north facing wall, was a wide staircase made for elaborate entrances—any family that was worth anything made their entrance from here.

Tonight, that is where I would be entering from.

My father rapped a hand on the knocker, and then we heard the rumble on the other side quiet down as the doorman called our introduction, "Now, the event you've been waiting for. Archibald Bennett, and his daughter—Aphrodite Morgana Hayley Bennett."

The wide doors opened and I started down the stairs. I was very conscious of the fact that everyone in the room was staring at me, and I couldn't help but smirk. I heard gasps, and the low murmurs at the appearance of me.

After spending four years in France, I had been labeled as an outcast—there had to be some reason that I was hiding, after all. _Perhaps it was webbed feet._

My mother automatically pulled me away from my father and led me to the arranged group of women—the Mother's, doubtlessly.

"I would like to reintroduce you to Hayley, Hayley, darling, some of these women I believe you'll remember, this is Narcissa Malfoy," She pointed the first woman, wearing deep emerald, her blonde hair pulled back and into a neat bun, she smiled sweetly. She was Draco's mother; I did remember that. How could I not?

"Don't be silly—like I don't remember Hayley Bennett? My son's little friend?" She gave me a polite smile, "How are you doing, Darling?"

"I'm fine, thanks." I replied already feeling awkward. It had been so long since I'd seen her...I didn't know how to feel. _How do I react to the woman who used to be like a mother to me?_

"This is Bellatrix," my mother pointed to the next woman.

"Bella!" I squealed, "It's been so long since I've seen you!"

"It's been too long, darling, and you're more beautiful than ever. How's your Grand Mummy doing?" My Grand Mother—was Rodolphus' aunt.

"She's doing great, Bella. You two have not been by in almost a year! I've missed you!" I gave her a hug, careful not to ruin my hair—or hers.

"I've missed you too, darling." She replied in her deep, husky voice, a smile alight on her face. She held my hands and looked at me, "You can have any boy in this room, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. And darling, choose wisely. And by wisely—I mean my Draco, so then you can be related to me." I laughed lightly.

"Merlin's beard, Is that really...?" A woman with thick bangs asked, staring at my upturned forearms.

"Yes, Kristin, it's a _dark mark_." Bella's smile was wider, and the other mother's pressed in to gaze down at it.

"She's barely of age—and already?"

"She must be positively extraordinary!"

"She is!" Was that Narcissa?

"What a delight! I should go introduce her to Blaise, surely..."

"No, Elle, that won't be needed, I need to introduce her to Urquhart."

"Nonsense, We all know that she's dying to meet Caradoc."

"What would she want with your blunderer of a son? He's less intelligent than a mountain troll!"

"He received three OWLs."

"My son only received one OWL. Quite a disappointment."

"_Hayley_, Darling, let me take you to meet _my_ son."

"She's meeting _my_ son first, right, Hayley?"

"Oh, Hush—she'll meet all of them, calm down." My mother arraigned the group of gossipers, "She'll meet them on her own, as need to be done. Go off with your own age, Hayley, Really—I'll see you later. Those of you who'd like to introduce her to your sons may do so in half an hour's time. As the nature of these things, let us see who approaches her first." She smiled sweetly at me, and pushed me off into the direction of the assembled teenagers, I walked over to Pansy—the first familiar face.

"God, Hay—I feel out of place standing next to you." I looked over Pansy, her dark hair was curled much like the silent film era, and she wore a simple, strapless black dress. "It's like a hit to my self esteem."

"Ha-Ha, You're so amusing, really."

"And you, are drop dead gorgeous." I looked up at my suitor—dark wavy hair, six foot three? Smoldering brown eyes and a half smile that could charm even someone who was half frozen. "I'm Marcus Flint," He held out his hand, "And you must be?"

I burst out laughing. "You really don't recognize me?"

"I would remember you, if I ever did lay eyes upon you." He replied.

"Flint, its _Boobless Bennett_," I replied smirking, "How could you have forgotten me?"

"I didn't forget you, persé," he kept the smile plastered onto his face; "I just didn't recognize you. _Boobless Bennett_," He let his eyes wander down, "That, you are no more."

I frowned, "Charming, Flint, truly charming." Rolling my eyes, I turned from him and back to pansy—easily dismissing him, "I can't believe I have to be here." She smiled.

"It'll be alright. You're a natural at telling them to sod off."

"So it's true that you're back, _Bennett_?" I turned to find the face that matched that voice.

"Clearly, _Malfoy_." I replied.

"Welcome back."

I told myself to calm down, when I'd seen his face my stomach had dropped. My heart had stopped beating in my chest, and my cheeks inflamed with embarrassment. Draco Archibald Malfoy, it had been six years. Feelings grow and change after six years, but I felt as besotted as ever, just from looking at his face (Yes, Archibald—Lucius and my father were quite the friends, in fact, My father's first born son was supposed to have the middle name Lucius. However, my father never sired any sons).

Draco Archibald Malfoy, a person that I'd refused myself to think of, I'd refused myself to talk to this whole time.

I thought that it this strange, giddy feeling would be gone. I was eleven when I last saw him. Infatuations die...

Yet, just looking at him was painful, it brought up all the memories that I had repressed for the last six years. Memories I'd repressed every second of the last 2,200-ish days.

I was going to need champagne to make this night bearable.

"Thomas Urquhart," a broad faced boy with sandy hair introduced himself, "And this," He handed me a glass of champagne, "Is for you. Achanté," He picked up my left hand and kissed the back of it, noticing the mark on my arm and rose an eyebrow, "Very impressing," He commented.

"Merci beacoup." I grinned.

"What? Are you really marked?" Draco asked, turning my arm over impatiently. I noticed Pansy look at me longingly—no doubt she was jealous. I had a crowd of about ten boys, only three of which I knew.

"Yes, Malfoy—not that it is any of your business. But yes, I have been marked by the dark lord." I finished smugly.

"So have I, Bennett." He replied, hoisting his jacket to show me an identical mark.

"This doesn't make us equals, Malfoy." I teased. "Put that away before you hurt someone."

"You are the most spectacular creature I've ever seen in my life," Another boy—this one black with high cheekbones appraised, "I'm Blaise Zabini."

I nodded, "I think I've met you before."

"I'm Caradoc Nevelson," A boy with a dark brow stepped forward, "I'm from Bulgaria."

"And I'm," a boy next to him grinned, "Viktor Krum—I accompanied Caradoc here. I assume you've heard of me?"

"No," I teased, smirking, "I don't think I have. Victor Crumb, did you say?"

"Krum." He emphasized.

"Oh, Krum—you're a quidditch player, right?" I asked.

"I play for Bulgaria."

"Pity, I'm a puddlemere united fan."

"Only because she thinks that Oliver Wood is sexy," Pansy affirmed. I felt my cheeks reddening.

"I do not." I hissed, shaking my head, and taking a sip from my glass.

"You do too."

"Then the pity is mine—" Flint acknowledged.

"Why?" I asked.

"Your heart belongs to that Mudblood," He leaned down, staring deep into my eyes, "And not to me."

I felt my heart flustering—most likely due to the champagne, "Oh," I remarked, "Well, You see—he doesn't have my heart. I just think he's attractive," I confirmed, "For a dirty mudblood." I smirked.

He smiled down at me, and I felt my heart leap erratically.

Who knew that Marcus Flint would grow up and turn into such a hottie...


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

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"Well, If it's not little Hayley Bennett, only she's not so little anymore!" A man with long blonde hair with an uncanny resemblance to Draco commented. I knew that it was Lucius Malfoy, judging by the company he kept. Moreover, the fact that I only knew one man with hair that blonde.

"It's funny how it happens, isn't it?" I remarked with my most sincere smile. One of the things that my grandmother had taught me was how to be a proper woman. One of the rules of that—treat your elders with respect.

"Quite," he remarked.

"Oh, darling, It's been too long," Rodolphus pushed past Lucius and hugged me tightly, "If only I had a son," He laughed lightly, "I would be doing everything within my power to make sure that you ended up marrying him, I wish you were my daughter." He grabbed my left arm, holding it out and staring at it with an awed expression, "Bella and I are so proud of you, Hayley."

"Leave the poor girl alone," Lucius replied, "You did see Draco, didn't you?" I turned and looked several feet to my left, at Draco, and then back to Lucius. "Well, I see I must've missed him." He smiled, "Have a great time this evening, Hayley," in parting.

"Bella and I must have you round for tea! How about this coming Wednesday? Are you free?"

"I'll have to speak with mother about it first, but it shan't be a problem." I smiled sweetly.

Bella was my hero...She was beautiful, and she was smart, and she bettered herself. She's one of his favorite servants.

I want to be just like her. I always have.

"You know, I find it rather funny," The sandy haired boy remarked, "We're at a ball, yes?"

I nodded, "Yes, of course we are."

"Well, not many people have begun dancing; perhaps you might consider dancing with myself?"

I studied him for a moment, "I have nothing better to do. Why not?"

After thirty seconds of dancing with Urquhart, I heard a loud throat clearing, "Mind if I step in?" Urquhart looked at me, trying to convince me with facial expressions to protest, when I didn't, "Lovely."

Over Flint's shoulder, I watched Urquhart storm angrily off to the rest of the people our age, "That wasn't very nice." I scolded.

"Sure it was. You should be dancing with someone better than Thomas Urquhart."

"Oh yeah? Who is better than _he_? Are you implying that you are?" I asked, raising a brow.

"Of course I'm better than he is. His mother had an affair with a Muggle, You know?" leave it to Marcus Flint to be gossiping...He hadn't changed in the least. My eyebrow, at this point, only climbed higher up my forehead.

"No, I didn't know," I recoiled slightly. "Well I suppose you want me to thank you? Although, I have to admit," I bit my lip and let out a low breath, "I barely find him objectionable."

"How is that possible?" He asked, scrunching up his eyebrows, and suddenly I was very aware of his hand on the bare skin of the small of my back.

"He's not bad looking," I quickly explained. Stabbing his ego first was the way to go. I licked my lips and rubbed them together, "And he's been extremely charming and pleasant."

"He's just being nice to you because you're beautiful," Flint quickly explained for me.

"Yes, I do realize that. Just like you—you're only being nice to me right now because you're attracted to me." I frowned, "So how is he any better than _you_?"

"I assure you, I only have honorable intentions in regards to you. Whereas Urquhart is already sizing you up for his mantle." Flint protested. I didn't even pretend to fawn over him for protecting me from that. That's the role he was playing: Protector. Only, as Marcus should well know, I do not and shall not need the protection of any man.

I'd beaten him up before, in my youth as his picking on me was merciless. He was always teasing me (something that I've grown to understand now as the way young boys handle attraction). I didn't like his picking on me, so I bloodied his nose a good time or two.

_Or maybe more like thirty-eight times, but hey, Who's counting?_"Sizing me up for his mantle? That's something that you say that you are not doing?" I inquired, my expression unreadable.

"No, of course I wouldn't." He answered uncomfortably.

"Funny, we're at my _coming out_ ball, that's what all the eligible bachelors in the room, with my parents invitations, are summoned to do." Which brought me to another thought entirely, "Pray tell, Flint," I began, "You pretended not to recognize me, when you knew that the ball was hosted in my honor, and whilst I was announced in front of everyone."

"I suppose I was out of the room when they made that particular announcement."

"Is that so? Or were you just trying to flatter yourself—it has been your object all evening of sizing me up for _your_ mantle, has it not?" I replied, my voice even killed and not showing the slightest bit of irritation at the daftness of the boy in front of me.

"I'm afraid that I don't have the slightest idea what you mean." He replied, not looking at me, but instead over my head and into the throng of people.

I could tell, that by this point—I'd wounded his fragile male ego. Something that my grandmother repeatedly talked to me about as I grew up. Boys hearts were much tender than they'd ever let anyone see—you have to take extreme care with them. At the time I didn't believe that a woman's heart could be less tender than a man's. But a woman's heart is made to regrow, a man's is not.

I let the subject drop, and instead focused on the dance—the way that my skirt fished around my legs, focusing on the way that our bodies swayed to the same tempo. Flint had changed so much since the last time I'd seen him. He'd lost some baby fat in his cheeks, which made his jaw line more distinctive, and his face more serious. His hair had grown out, making his head look significantly less as if it had a point at the top.

While I'd been Boobless Bennett growing up, he'd been Tent-headed Flint.

The most important change in Flint's appearance—he no longer had buckteeth. Something that I feel greatly improved his appearance.

"Excuse me," I heard a voice being cleared, I turned to see my next suitor, "May I cut in?"

Flint regarded me with a look saying, _Tell him to sod off_. He was practically begging me with my eyes. "Yes, that is quite fine with me." Flint gave me a stern look, "A dance with an old friend."

"You heard her Flint," he responded, "Pardon me." In a mere matter of seconds, I went from being in Flint's arms, to my former _best_ friend's. We had grown up together, and been close for years. After I'd moved in with my grand mummy, I'd stopped talking to him completely.

It just hurt to be away from him.

"You grew up well, Hayley." He remarked, studying—not my chest, but my face, "Prettier than I expected, as a tomboy."

"France does bring out a tomboy's inner girl, my grand mummy always says." I replied, smiling easily, "You know, Draco—you didn't turn out that bad yourself."

"Is that a compliment?" He inquired, "Or a half compliment?"

"That was a compliment, Malfoy." I growled, teasingly.

"I hoped so." He was quiet for a moment, but thoughtful. I gave him the time that he needed to organize his thoughts, "Ever since my parents told me that you were back in town, I kept wondering, _How do I approach her? What do I say to her?_ Because, you see, there is so much that I want to say. So much that I _need_ to say."

"Draco," I chided, "That was ages ago. We were both so little then," I argued. "The past is the past," I assured.

"No, I don't think it is." He replied quietly, "Something that I have to know, that for the last six years has bugged me almost every day—why didn't you write to me?"

I shrugged, that had been something that I'd thought about a lot, too. I had every intention of writing Draco, I really had. As an eleven year old girl, I'd grown up from childhood with a crush on him. I was so certain that I'd marry him, and we'd grow old together. Then, I got to France, and I began trying to think of how to write to him. What would I say in a letter that was sufficient? Every time I tried to write something, I'd end up with a blank page, and eyes full of tears. I'd been eleven then, I knew that my infatuation with Draco was something that would wear and disappear over time.

Six years had passed...

I did not ever plan on coming back to England, how I cursed my parents for bringing me back here. I did not want to open that assortment of problems, so I stuck with a much simpler answer, "I don't know."

"I don't know why either—I wrote _you_." He accused. I knew that what I had done was a low blow.

"What did you expect me to say back?" I asked, "That I'd be home soon, that I'd come back and we'd instantly be the best of friends again?"

"I didn't care. I just—I felt like you completely forgot about me," He replied truthfully. I sighed, wanting very much to just lay my head on his shoulder—just like old times. But I didn't.

"After a while," I admitted, "I did." I didn't want to hurt him, so I quickly elaborated, "I just mean, that I was in France, and you were in England—we were living lives separate from each other. You moved on, too."

"That's true, I did." He was quiet for a while, and like always, I gave him room to think. It was either that or I was too nervous to speak.

"We're not the same as we used to be. _The seasons have changed, and so have we. There was little we could say. And even less that we could do..._" I quoted my guilty pleasure—A Muggle Band...I shrugged, "There wasn't anything I had to say to you, Draco. It was too hard."

"So you're saying that you don't have feelings for me at all anymore?" He asked, his blue eyes as cold as ice. I wanted to be the force that melted them—just like I always used to. But I couldn't let myself.

"No," I said shakily.

"Is that why you didn't write?" Not the angle I was thinking about, but it wouldn't hurt...

"Yes."

He didn't look at me for a long time, I let the silence bloom so he could arrange his thoughts. Draco was always a thinker. At last, he looked up, traces of sadness still lined in his brow, "So tell me, Hayley Bennett, as you've changed, who have you become? Is the girl I once knew still there somewhere?"

I laughed lightly, "I'm the same as before. I still love playing quidditch, and my favorite color is still red." I offered. Since pink is technically a tint of red...

"You seem so different." He scrunched up his brows, thinking about the past, certainly.

"Is that bad?" I asked, I did not think it was bad.

"You don't look like anything I would have imagined," He replied. He looked exactly how I'd imagine. Same, white blonde hair, slicked back from his face. The same icy glare he gave to the people he disliked. He walked the same—with one hand shoved into a pocket, the other free. He looked at me the same.

"How did you imagine me, now?" I asked.

"I kept picturing you, eleven years old, and I couldn't get past that image of you." He chuckled, "I wasn't expecting this."

"I am sorry if the fact that I am a girl took you by surprise. I know that as a child, you probably looked more like a girl than I did. The one thing that is different. I wear makeup, and I love," I swallowed hard, "Well, I love shopping."

"That's not too surprising," He laughed.

"Oh, it's not?" I teased.

"You are a girl after all." he replied, pursing his lips.

"You did not just say that." I laughed, "I bet I can still beat you at quidditch."

"I don't know," He smirked.

"Draco Malfoy, Don't you dare have the audacity to smirk at me!" I playfully slapped his arm.

"That's one thing that's the same—you still hate my smirk."

"Yes, and I shall until the day that we both die. It irritates me, Malfoy." I narrowed my eyes.

"You really still play quidditch?" He smiled.

"Of course I do, why wouldn't I?"

"Well, you're a girl."

"You're such a chauvinist!" I complained.

"I'll tell you what—the next time the weather is nice, you can come to my house and we'll all play quidditch. And we see who wins." He grinned, one eyebrow went up, higher than the other.

"Deal. I hope you're a better sport at losing than you once were."


	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

"Hayley, wake up already!" I heard someone shouting, I rolled over, my head facing the ceiling as I kept my eyes squeezed shut. At some point in my sleep, I'd kicked my comforter to the foot of my bed, and now, my legs (that went on for miles) felt the ache of the cold.

I opened my eyes slowly, still groggy from sleep. Whoever was waking me up shouldn't be, it took me time to recuperate after a ball.

The posse at the foot of my bed was the least I was expecting.

"DRACO! Bloody Hell, mate! What are you doing in here?" I replied, pulling my blanket up to cover my body. I was wearing a pair of _short_ shorts (the kind that barely counted as being shorts) and a thin-strapped tank top. I was barely clothed.

Not only Draco was in my room, all the boys from last night—Crabbe, Goyle, Flint, Urquhart, Blaise all stood around my bed.

"I told you I'd come and get you when the weather was good enough for quidditch," He replied innocently.

"So you barge into my bedroom in the middle of the night—" He cut me off, rolling his eyes.

"It's past ten, Hayley. It's hardly the middle of the night."

"Who let you in here?" I asked, feeling it was the more obvious question. It was improper to say the least that six boys had found their way into my bedroom. Regardless of the fact that it was technically morning. I was still asleep.

"Well, your mother let us in the house. I explained to her what was going on and she suggested that I come rile you from sleep myself." He replied smirking.

"I hate you, Draco—have I ever told you that?" I replied, narrowing my eyes as I tried to set up and keep myself covered at the same time. This was a feat harder than I would have believed.

"It's been six years since you have, but I find that your infliction is just the same and that I'm not in the least offended." He replied, putting a hand over his heart, "You're too nice to truly hate me."

"If I wasn't so indecently clad I would get out of this bed and kick your arse." I threatened.

"Oh, whatever, you're too much of a girl now to do that."

I narrowed my eyes, a growl slipping from my mouth, "You didn't just say that," I hissed between clenched teeth, "I might be girlie-er than I once was, but I can still kick your arse. And now, please, if you'll go wait for me in the foyer I'll be right down." I waited until they all left my room, the door shutting with a satisfying click behind them, I bound from the bed and ran to the door, but I was not fast enough, Draco opened it back up.

"And by the way, Bennett," I did not like the way that they were all eyeing my body, I felt so self-conscious. So...mentally raped, "We're playing a real game. It'll be seven on seven." He looked thoughtful for a moment, "And bring a change of clothes. Who knows what we'll be doing afterwards."

He turned, shutting the door before opening it widely...again.

"Oh, and Uther Verne, determined to create the world's next biggest quidditch team, the Venice Asps, comprised solely of purebloods is going to be playing with us. So bring your best game."

"What?" I snapped, "Uther...Verne?"

"Yes, and your friends from last night—Caradoc Nevelson and his friend, as you know him, Viktor Crumb are also joining us."

"I'm the only girl?" I snapped, raising my eyebrow. Leave it to men to be gender centric at all times...

"Yes, you're the only girl who I believe is talented enough to keep up," It was a weird, sort of half comment. For myself, I was proud, my inner self boasted. For my sex, I was greatly offended.

"You haven't seen me play in _six_ years." I insisted, "You don't even know what I'm like now."

He looked over my body, and my skin squirmed, how I wanted to cover myself with a sheet, "You have well defined quidditch muscles," See, he was not actually checking me out. Why would I think after all this time he might still have feelings for me?

Why did I want him to?

"That doesn't mean anything," I hissed, "You stupid men and your inability to let women play quidditch."

"Hey, the holyhead harpies have enough girls for the whole league," He insisted. Outraged, I picked up a shoe I found in the floor and aimed for his head. The door swung shut before I even had a chance and collided, with an audible shudder against my door.

I stomped to my closet, trying frantically to figure out one wears when they are playing quidditch with a bunch of boys (no doubt horny boys, which made it even more difficult). I did not want anything too tight or too revealing, obviously. I picked out a pair of gray sweat pants and a white racer back tank top (hey, I'm still a girl. And as far as the whole deal went with showing patronage to Slytherin—I did not even go to Hogwarts. Who even knows that is what house I'd be in?). Then, searching my closet for a small tote, I shoved a pair of jeans, and a silk black v-necked wrap shirt into the bag, along with a pair of black sandals.

I walked into my bathroom, scrubbing my face clean before using my wand to pull most of the curl from my hair to make putting it into a ponytail easier.

I finished getting ready, lacing up my green puma's and grabbing my bag (wand stowed inside) and broom—heading out my door. I immediately stopped, turned around and grabbed my Holyhead harpies hat, laughing to myself as I shoved my ponytail through it. If they thought there were too many girls in the quidditch industry, I would make sure that they would not forget the fact that I was a girl.

Or the fact that that they'd been beaten by a girl....

Which, it was needless to say—whoever I played against would lose. I am _just_ that good.

I took the stairs two at a time whistling to myself.

"Nice Hat," Flint remarked, I looked up. He was the furthest most out of the posse that had formed at the foot of the stairs, piling into the foyer. Most of the guys didn't notice I'd turned up, flint must have been watching for me. Which was flattering and creepy at the same time.

At the sound of his voice, the other boys looked up, "Look who finally stopped primping in the mirror."

I laughed, "Everyone knows that you primp more than I do, Draco." I countered. It was true when we were kids. I had been a tomboy for my entire youth. It was France and my grand mummy that brought out the girl in me. If you had tried to put me in pink years ago, I would have kicked and screamed the entire time.

He blushed, and Crabbe and Goyle hissed a chorus of 'Ooh's'.

"If you ladies are done fighting, I'd suggest that the two of us haul arse back to Draco's." Urquhart commented looking pleased with himself. Draco wasn't recovering so easy.

I didn't care, though.

"I have a very important question to ask—Why was it necessary for all six of you to come to my house to get me? Why not just write me?" I inquired, moving to the front door with the boys.

"We came because it'd be faster than writing." Flint replied, instantly striding next to me. He was very persistent...

"And, the boys were already at my house and Mum didn't want me to leave them there without me." Draco finished, "Are we far away to apparate yet?"

"You know my parents, I don't think they'd mind if we apparate here even though it's not technically out of the privacy bubble thing yet." I replied, stopping in my tracks. And looking at them, a sudden realization hitting me. "I've never apparated to your house, Draco. I haven't been there in almost seven years..."

"That's alright, You can side-along with me." He replied, with a soft shrug, "Though it'd probably be best if you give your broom to someone else." Five boys jumped over themselves to have the task to take my broom with them as they apparated back to Draco's house. The one who looked the least enthused was Crabbe.

"You can take it Crabbe, don't break it! Or I'll kill you." I threatened, narrowing my eyes as I handed over my firebolt.

"She's serious, too." Draco replied. I laughed, he wasn't exactly right...I wouldn't kill someone over my precious, best model yet and limitedly released—

Oh wait, I would.

"Let's get going, guys." Draco replied, and we heard audible cracks until Draco and I were the only two people standing there. He looked at me, a lopsided smile, "Well, uh, let's do this."

"What am I supposed to do? Just grab your hand or something?" I asked, flexing my fingers. I was unsure of what touching Draco's hand would do to my mental stability. I took a step towards him, the wind blowing around us. I could feel hairs lifting in my ponytail, I could see the hair slide across Draco's forehead and instantly—I was hit by the smell of his cologne. The most delicious smell I'd ever smelt on a man...

Classifying Draco as a man was both foreign and strange to me...but it's truly what he was now.

"Maybe you should wrap your arms around my waist," He suggested, "That way we don't lose any part of you." I burst out laughing—of course Draco would have grown into a ladies' man...I'd seen the making of that in him as a child. It was quite fitting, "You think that's funny?"

"Perhaps," I replied, my lips twitching upwards into a telling all smile, "Perhaps I'm laughing at the fact that you think that you're so suave." I replied, he looked offended at this jibe but I continued anyway, "And besides, Draco—are you honestly making a move on me? Boobless Bennett. C'mon, don't kid yourself."

I do not know if I said that because that is what I believe or if that is what I need to believe.

I mentally 'face palmed' myself.

Six years is a long time. I cannot possibly still feel what I felt for Draco now as I did then. I didn't even know if he was that same little boy.

"I wasn't hitting on you," He argued, and I could tell from the air of his speech that things had gotten awkward. Neither of us said anything for a moment, the silence only bloomed.

This consequently made things even more awkward...if that were possible.

"Uh, So let's get going." Draco finished, beckoning me forwards. I hesitantly (and very awkwardly) wrapped my arms around his waist. He responded immediately, wrapping his arms around me, creating a barrier around me.

And I, the girl who didn't need anyone's—specifically any man's protection, suddenly felt as if she needed the safety of Draco's arms for the rest of her...

_Oh, Fuck. _I stopped that train of thought off dead, and squeezed my eyes shut.

"One, two, three," I felt the familiar sensation of being grabbed and squeezed into a tight shape, feeling the air pressure around my limbs, but I didn't feel as if I moved at all. Then it all stopped. I remained in the same place, my eyes still shut and still unmoving. His grip didn't loosen, and we just stayed frozen like that.

As if somehow, the past could go away, and I knew that is what I wanted. But is that what he wanted? Surely, he had to have a girlfriend...

"Draco, Let the poor girl go," I heard a woman's voice suggest. Blushing, I dislodged myself from his arms, embarrassed at my moment of weakness, "Oh, Hayley! You came after all!" I smiled, nodding at Narcissa, "Well this is a pleasant surprise. It is nice to have a girl in the house again."

Did that mean that Draco did not have any girls over...?

I tried not to laugh at that.

"What are you doing this afternoon?" Narcissa asked, regarding me with a bemused expression.

I looked at Draco and raised an eyebrow.

"Don't ask me, I haven't the slightest idea." He replied.

She laughed lightly, "You're having tea with me on the veranda, then Hayley. I won't take no for an answer."

"Okay, then. I'm having tea with you on the veranda," I replied as sweetly as I could.

"Will you stop hitting on my mom so we can go join the guys in the back yard?" Draco asked.

"You're just jealous because I'm not hitting on you." I countered, sticking out my tongue childishly, and just like that we were six years in the past.

"Why would I be jealous of that? You don't even count as a girl," He replied, smirking at me. It grinded every bone in my body.

"Draco Archibald Malfoy—do I have to wipe that smirk of your face—" I threatened.

"What, girlie girl? You're going to kiss it off of me?"

I narrowed my eyes, "You wish. I'm going to smack it right off your face if you do not stop smirking at me."

"Geeze, Someone took their drama pill this morning." He replied with a lisp, flipping his hand out and putting the other on his hip.

I looked at him with a bemused expression. I felt myself laughing before I could make myself stop, "Do you have anything that you need to tell me, Draco?"

"That was purely for old times' sake. You will not see me do that again, and if you tell anyone that I did it, I swear, I'll knock you off your broom." He threatened, his voice icy.

"Someone took their bitch pill this morning," I replied, pushing through the back doors, and into the huge lawn the Malfoy's possessed, seeing the glittering pond in the far off distance, all the trees and lovely flowers.

"Who brought the girl?" One guy asked, laughing, looking around at the boys next to him for a similar reaction.

"Is the _little miss_ really playing with us?" Another I didn't recognize leered at me, a twisted smile on his scarred face. I narrowed my eyes and looked at him with scorn.

"This girl brought her school team to winning the house cup six years in a row, single handedly," I replied, "This little miss," I continued, my temper truly starting to get the best of me, "won two of those as a chaser, one as a beater, one as a keeper, and two as a seeker." I put my hand on my hip and flipped my ponytail, probably looking more like a girl than ever. I tried squaring my shoulders to intimidate them (a feat hard to do at 5'3") "Not only that, but this little miss won MVP all six years on all positions." A few of the guys snickered as I said 'positions,' I sighed at the inability of the male mind to function.

"So you're going to bring it?" The man with the scar running from his eyebrow down to his jaw looked at me, his eyes were crazy. Almost as crazy as his jet black hair that stuck up in random directions as if he had just gotten off a broom stick...

So he was one of those kind of boys...

I put my other hand on my hip and looked him straight in the eyes. He was a stocky build, and only a few inches taller than me, "I already have."

"That's great, I'm Uther Verne," he held his hand out.

I put my hand in his and instead of giving him time to bring it to his lips and kiss the back, I shook his hand with a firm grip, "Hayley Bennett."


	4. Chapter 4

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

"So what position will you be playing today?" Uther inquired. I noticed that all sound had obliterated. I could hear the sound of a bee buzzing nearby, I could hear the unsteady breaths I was taking. That was it.

"Chaser." I replied easily.

"Great," he smiled, "I'm a keeper—in case you were wondering. I'm going to be team captain, and the other one will be you." He offered. I nodded. "We've got two seekers—Draco, and Krum. I'll take Draco." Draco obediently went to stand behind Uther.

"Which means I'll take Krum," I replied, not exactly pleased with the news. I did not know Viktor, but I could only assume that _international quidditch star_ got to his head, "Who is the other Keeper?" I inquired.

"I can play keeper," the boy I recognized to be Viktor's Bulgarian friend from yesterday stepped forward, "It's my best, actually." He offered with a grin.

"Yeah, great," I replied. I was starting to get antsy from the way that the sun beat down on my skin. It felt itchy; I was dying to be in the air, feeling the wind blowing in my face. Feeling my hair fly around.

"Let's do chasers next. You have one. So we need five of you to be chasers," Five boys raised their hands as if we were back in first year. I laughed lightly at how much like Muggles we were currently acting like.

"I'm taking Zabini and Flint," I commanded. Uther didn't respond to this if he cared, he just nodded and the other three boys—ones that I didn't have names for joined Uther.

"Leaving the four of you as beaters," I noted Crabbe and Goyle—their identical boulder-ness a little less than intimidating, "I pick Crabbe, and Goyle." Great, there goes the two I actually know the names of...

One of them looked familiar; I'd danced with him last night...his name was Theodore...Taylor...Tyler...Thomas! his name was Thomas. The other though, stocky and with auburn colored hair, I had absolutely no name for.

"You are?" I asked, raising a brow, as I unwound my ponytail, then shoving my hat back over my head, letting my tendrils of hair roam free.

"Alberic Grunnion," He replied, "Beater at your service."

I smiled—not politely and grabbed my broom, "Okay guys, let's warm up." I kicked off the ground and zoomed into the air, feeling my muscles stretch and warm. The wind picked up my hair and knocked it around my face—just what I was hoping for. Something was satisfying and enjoyable about the way that my hair danced in the wind and tickled my cheeks and arms.

Showing off was in my nature, so after my muscles felt stretched enough I began doing spirals, my hat almost falling off in the process. I next began diving, lower and lower until I almost collided with the earth, and then straightened myself.

"If Hayley is done showing off, maybe we can actually start the game," I turned my gaze on Draco, narrowing my eyes. The vicious wind wiped around my head, making my hair fly around my face giving the same effect of the snakes coiled around Medusa's face.

"I shan't dare hesitate a moment longer."

***

"Hmmm, what was the score again?" I smiled victoriously, "Was it two hundred and seventy to ninety?"

"You actually had two ninety, we had seventy," Uther responded even though I'd been talking to Draco. He looked at me with a blank look.

"You got lucky, Bennett." He replied, "Luck. That's all. you've always had it."

"Perhaps luck in this case is more natural skill," I replied.

"You're a girl..." Draco protested and my already narrowed eyes became even smaller slits, "Not that your being a girl factors into this at all..."

"So what do you say, Verne...Did I bring it?" I asked happily.

I had shown them—shown all of them, the stupid, chauvinistic, egotistical boys I'd been playing with (I suppose that I am quite egotistical about myself, but I was good—no reason not to be happy about yourself when you're actually decent).

"Yes," he replied with a laugh, "One hundred and forty points worth of bringing it."

I laughed lightly, and Draco only gave me a rather glum expression. I quieted myself and tried to think of ways to change the subject.

Draco had pretended to be...Oh crap, I could not use that.

I'd won the quidditch match...I couldn't use that either. I did not want to annoy them with my big headed ness.

Luckily, Pansy came skipping off onto the patio and rushed over to us. I smiled, all she did was grin, "Tomorrow's my fitting for my dress, please, tell me that you'll come with me, Hayley? I don't have any decent girlfriends—"

Blaise snorted, "Did you hear that guys, Parkinson says she's got girlfriends!" He snickered.

Both of us turned to look at him with identical expressions of, 'Did you really just say something that immature?'

Apparently, he did.

"Whatever, Anyway—all the girls that I went to Hogwarts with, the Slytherins, they're alright—but I'd rather it be you." Something that Draco didn't know, and I didn't plan on, or intend to tell him anytime soon is that I did write Pansy...

It was so much easier to do. We'd both changed from who we once were, and we'd never been the best of friends, but we had kept in touch.

I don't know how Draco would react if he knew...

"I'll come, I don't mind—and it should be fun. Besides," I giggled nervously, "I don't have a dress for your coming out ball yet..."

"Hayley! It's in less than a week! How have you not picked out a dress yet?"

"It's easy—I was either hanging out with you, or overseeing the planning for the start of my season." I replied, laughing lightly, and running my fingers through my hair, twirling the locks second naturedly.

"Well, I suppose," She began pursing her lips and not looking at me, "that's a good excuse."

I laughed lightly, "Don't even try to be offended. _You_ didn't buy a new dress for my ball," I replied, rolling my eyes. She looked at me and smiled. I was forgiven.

Girls were funny that way—they were always getting 'fake mad,' at one another. Growing up as a 'boy,' I found it baffling the easy way that they bounced back and forth with fake emotions towards their friends. However, I had been able to practice, and sometimes—I was even fake mad at a friend without having to purposely orchestrate it.

After about ten minutes of standing around on Draco's back porch, the crowd dwindled down to eight. The six from my bedroom posse plus Pansy and myself. We made ourselves comfortable on the patio furniture as Draco ordered a house elf to bring us lunch, and then began a unified conversation, "I'm sorry that I didn't mention this previously, but Uther was here, as the captain of the Asps, as a scout. He was particularly looking for fresh, new talent. I think he found it," Draco smiled smugly, "Me." He clarified. I rolled my eyes.

Boys will be boys, I suppose...

Wait..._talent scout_? What if...and I...because I played well...and then...

I refused to let myself divulge upon that thought. I would only spend days and days in agony over it.

"More like he found it in me," Zabini argued.

"I'm a better chaser than you'll ever be," Flint replied, and a smirk took over his face. I narrowed my eyes, and without thinking first (Step Five in lady etiquette—always, always, always think before you speak) about what I was going to say, I tore my hat off my head, and tossed it to the floor.

"What is it with you sodding bunch and smirking? Is this a trait of Slytherin? Or the trademark of insufferable gits!?" I snapped, throwing my hands into the air, shaking my long mane of hair down my back.

"On the contrary, a smirk is sexy," Flint replied, keeping a smirk on his face as he smoldered his eyes at me. I ignored him, as Draco began to explain.

"Smirks are just good—they're sarcastic, they're dry, they're a reply without saying anything." He explained.

"_Like I didn't know that_," I rolled my eyes, "I get what you're saying, really, I do. however—have you noticed that you always are smirking. All of you. You do not have any other facial quirk. It's always a smirk. Ever heard of a smile? A frown?"

"As Draco said—it's a reply without saying anything. And it's sarcastic. They're perfect." Blaise argued for himself.

"I think they're sexy..." Pansy replied, throwing her two cents in.

"If you want to be sarcastic, why not try being sarcastic? You know, not everyone likes a man who doesn't speak," I fumed. If my Grandmummy was here she would undoubtedly be pulling me to the side and tell me to act more like the young woman that I was. I pushed her voice from the back of my head and listened to Draco's rebuttal.

"What's that supposed to mean? We speak enough."

"You just said that a smirk was the perfect reply because it wasn't say anything. You're such a walking contradiction," I protested.

"Are you guys going to be fighting like this until we die?" Crabbe inquired, "Because it seems like you do it more now than ever before."

"They did always used to fight, didn't they?" Pansy laughed, shaking her head as if she were reliving a pleasant memory.

"We're not fighting, we're just having a discussion," Draco contradicted, shaking his head, and looking from Crabbe and back to me.

"A rather heated discussion, granted," I laughed, "But it's a discussion none the less." At that moment, three house elves appeared holding trays of food, sandwiches, chips, drinks, fruit, and placing them on the tables around us. It was a square table, and there were two of us on each side. Draco and Zabini sat across from pansy and myself. On my left were Crabbe and Goyle, and then on Pansy's right, Flint and Urquhart. Naturally, the boys all rushed to grab sandwiches and chips. I sat back coolly, waiting until all hands were removed from the food I'd be eating.

"I'm going to go use the ladies," Pansy excused herself, pushing her chair back and heading inside. I stared at the seat next to me and cursed her silently for leaving me in this mess...

The seat didn't stay empty for long, ignoring flint, I reached across the table and grabbed one of the untouched plates of fruit and began nibbling on a piece of pineapple.

"I couldn't resist stealing Pansy's seat," He quickly confided, "After all who wouldn't want to sit next to you?"

Zabini laughed, and looked at me with a grin, "God job, Blaise. No smirk." I commented, popping a blueberry into my mouth.

"Actually, I was just realizing that you are the female version of Draco Malfoy." I did not quite understand what he was saying. The female version of Draco? What the bloody hell was that supposed to mean?

"Translation?" I raised a brow, and crossed my arms over my chest.

"She really doesn't need to hear this," Draco insisted, trying to stop Zabini from explaining his connection.

"I guess you wouldn't know," Zabini continued, "Not being at Hogwarts and everything. However, Draco has quite a reputation—"

"A reputation for what?" I was beginning to think I should be offended at such a comparison.

"For being an insufferable ladies man." I laughed—I had picked up on the fact that he was a ladies' man. Pansy had only drooled over him too many times. Half her stories revolved around _Draco_.

"So are you saying that chicks really dig me?" I replied.

"No, the opposite. You're a—I don't know what to call it. Vixen, perhaps?"

"I believe calling me a vixen would be heavily implicating that I'm a scarlet woman, and I can assure you, Blaise that, me as a scarlet woman is far from reality."

"Maybe what he meant is that we haven't been around you in which some _'male specimen'_ hasn't been ogling you, and making a move." Urquhart replied.

Laughing, I replied, "Oh yes—Flint warned me about that last night. How many men exactly were sizing me up for their mantle?" I teased.

"All of them," He replied.

"Can we please get through a meal without somebody hitting on her? Please?" Draco asked, and I couldn't help but laugh.


	5. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

* * *

"I'm wearing deep, emerald green for my ball, so you can't get a green dress," Pansy whined as I fingered the most extraordinary green gown that I've ever seen. I pouted and turning from the gown entirely began looking at the pink ones.

"What about this?" I held up one, keeping my face straight. It was cotton candy pink, swathed in layers upon layers of tool, with little chiffon roses around the neckline, and big sleeves poofing out from the shoulders. The skirt was bigger than the whole store...

Okay, so not really, but the skirt was huge.

She barked a short laugh before snipping, "Get real—that dress is ugly."

I pretended to be offended, "But it's my dream dress, Pansy. Friends don't hate on their friends dream dresses."

She rolled her eyes, "Then get it," She looked as if she was considering something of importance, for then she added, "Well, maybe you should get that dress. Maybe then the entire male population would stop drooling over you long enough for me to get a date." I frowned, _what was that smell_? I scrunched my nose up uncomfortably, trying to figure out where it was coming from..._Was that_...?

"This dress smells like cat dung!" I shoved it back on the shelf, satisfied by the way that the hangers scraped the rack, filling the store with a sharp metallic sound. I looked around, trying to find a rack of dresses that looked promising, with a groan, I continued, "The fashion sucks here. France is so much better for shopping...why, Et 'es better for everyzing!" I tried imitating french the best I could, but alas, I failed...

It wasn't that bad...but it was far from believable.

Oh, well.

"Oh stop complaining and pick one already." I gazed at her in astonishment.

"This is a delicate, complicated process." I huffed, shoving my hair behind my ears, and with a "Hmph," began looking at some gowns on the far wall—all the way across from the cat-dung-smelling-cotton-candy-puke-nightmare.

"Miss Parkinson," the tall, stick thin witch who owned the shop popped out from a back door, holding a long, sleek black bag, "Here's your dress, dear. Why don't you go put this on, and then we'll make sure the alterations are right." She gave pansy a nice smile, who grabbed the bag impatiently and skipped (literally, okay, not really) to the dressing room.

White, Yellow, gold, blue, green, orange...all the dresses were the wrong color. I was a pureblood for merlins sakes! Not some kind of Dumbledore worshiping harlot.

And then...crimson...

But not in the Gryffindor way...

Crimson as in the color of blood...I fingered the décolleté bodice, sighing as I took in the splendor—the classic lines, the fitted waist, the lines in the boning, the delicate cups, the mermaid style skirt and flaring train.

It was love at first sight.

"So, Hayley!" I turned to see Pansy spinning on a pedestal, "What do you think?"

The black gown was elaborate—the waist cinched tightly, with a skirt swathed in iridescent chiffon. Silver beads glittered down the bodice and scattered like broken glass over the skirt.

It was an American teenager's prom dream dress.

"Very cute, but you shouldn't wear a necklace—just a pair of drop earrings and then maybe a bracelet. But a slim bracelet. It's the kind of dress that's easy to overdo."

"Do you think Draco would like it?" She hinted, swinging her arms out and letting the skirt fly in the air as if she were a child. Of course, she would directly ask me if I thought that Draco would like it. Glumly, I wondered..._Is that the only reason she asked me to come here? So I could help her get with Draco?_

There was some sort of thing that was happening between them. Something that I did not have a name for to describe. Maybe he _did_ love her. I could not be upset with him for living his life in my absence...

I lived my life without him..._Why was I being so pathetic about this_? I wanted to slap the idiotic out of me, but I could not—it would raise question that I would have to answer somehow.

"Well?" She asked, panic edging her voice, and I felt sorry for her. Her happiness depended on if a boy—this boy liked her dress enough. She looked down at the dress with hesitance.

"Of course he will," I replied, forcing the smile onto my lips, "Why wouldn't he?"

* * *

"Aphrodite Morgana Hayley Bennett!" Yes, Aphrodite as in the greek god of beauty, and Morgana as in the arthurian legend, Morgana Le Fay—Or sometimes just Morgan Le Fay.

I didn't think I was much of a Morgana, and not that I'm not beautiful—but going by Aphrodite was a bit arrogant.

Want to hear something even funnier? I had two older sisters, Hera Amrita Emma Bennett, Amrita as in an ancient kind of life prolonging elixir. And then, the middle child—Athena Minerva (A bit contradictory if you ask me—Athena being the greek goddess of wisdom and war, and Minerva being the roman goddess of the exact same thing) Blair Bennett.

They gave us all one normal sounding name. And I bet you can guess which name of the four we all use...

"What, Mother?" I kept throwing shoes; I know I had a pair of candy red wedges that would be the perfect complement to my black dress—hiding somewhere on the giant shelf of shoes. It was a more casual dress, fitted bodice, a sweet heart neckline, free flowing skirt, stopping just before the knee, with inch thick straps.

"If you don't leave now, you are going to be late and that is most unbecoming." I growled. I had heard this lecture before...

"Well, I think it's just as unbecoming to show up somewhere ill-ly dressed. Imagine if my sense of style was naught more than average..." I shuddered, and closed my hand around the shoes. "Eureka!" I squealed, clasping the red Zac Posen shoes in between my fingers.

I slipped them on, then hurried out the door, to where our chauffeur was waiting. I hoped into the black Muggle contraption. We only used them for social calls, to observe polite etiquette—when those social calls brought me into the realm of the Muggle world. I was to arrive at Bella's and Rodolphus' at precisely three o'clock. It was usually a good thirty minute drive, and as the lights illuminated the dash (in the rather queer time telling device, that it was two-forty two.

The driver of course, crawled at a sluggish pace. He was a squib of course, squibs live their lives trying to be exactly what they aren't, so they're overly careful. I debated for a moment, confunding him so I could make him drive faster.

I'd try persuasion first.

"Excuse me, Driver?" I inquired, putting on my best, the little innocent miss face.

"Yes, Miss Bennett?"

"Well, seeing as the hour is only growing later, might you show some haste?" he did as he was told, and at Three-oh-two, I hobbled out of the car on four and a half inch heels and a perfect smile on my face. I pushed a curl from my eye—and as the perfect woman does, walked gracefully to the door of the Lestrange Manor with my head held high, and my shoulders squared.

Posture was something so important, that persons often overlooked. Posture showed onlookers your entire life style. Poor people slouched. Muggles and Mudbloods slouched.

Purebloods had _impeccable_ posture.

"Hayley, Darling! Prompt—as usual." I laughed lightly—_Oh, what they did not know_!

That's another trait of Purebloods. Promptness. Okay, so my mother was right. Showing up late is unbecoming. Especially as a young woman of my stature. Why, I was practically _Princess of the Purebloods_.

"Of course," I smiled sweetly at Bellatrix then observed that Rodolphus was absent, I frowned, and then inquired to his absence.

"It's funny—see, Wednesday's are the days that I meet with tea with my girlfriends. Moreover, Rodolphus is out doing the Dark Lord's deeds. We totally forgot about our previous obligations. So, you'll be joining myself, Narcissa—of course you know, Kristin Flint and Elle Zabini." She smiled sweetly, as I walked with her down the hallway and into the sunroom. The three other women were assembled, all gazed at me expectantly. Except Narcissa. She looked at me with a cold, blank expression as if I displeased her somehow.

I was puzzled at this notion, but pushed it out of my mind for the present.

"Hayley," Narcissa nodded, greeting me rather informally.

"Oh, It's little Hayley Bennett!" Elle Zabini remarked her lips pushing upward to reveal two very prominent dimples.

"Only, she's not so little!" Kristen Flint teased, she too took on an earsplitting grin.

Oh, this was going to be a long night...


	6. Chapter 6

Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter.

The first thing I did, once I was home that night was take off my heels. Sure, they were adorable. And they were designer—but in the comforts of one's home, going barefoot was very acceptable.

"Misses Bennett is requested in the sitting room as soon as she arrives home," The tiny house elf squeaked, it stood as if it had been standing for a while. I grumpily waved the house elf away—its name was squeaky, stinky, sneaky...something like that. It did not matter in the slightest.

I walked through to the east wing, turning off into the giant sitting room, with its ornate, Victorian era furniture.

I saw my mother standing by the window, a curious expression on her face, on the couch, were the backs of three heads—One I picked out easily, as it belonged to Marie's. The next, could be none other than father—so that left the third to be?

"It's the strangest thing, Aphrodite," I cringed.

"Mother—must you?" I sighed, coming around the couch and walking over to my favorite pink arm chair.

"It is your god given name; you must learn to appreciate it fully." I had to bite my tongue to save myself from remarking in a most acerbic nature.

"Yes, Mother—I'm terribly sorry." I replied dryly, not using up an ounce of emotion. My patience grew short as she played her beat around the bush game, "Whatever did you mean, 'It's the strangest thing'?"

"Well, only thirty minutes passed after you left, and Marcus Flint showed up—announced, though," She shot a glance to the sofa.

That's right...the third unknown. Of course it'd be Marcus...

"We hardly mind, Marcus. Feel free to come whenever you feel the need to. He came today with the insistence; he was not parting until he saw you. So, we've done our part, entertaining Marcus for the last two hours; now let it be your turn." My Mother looked very pleased with herself, "Athena, Archibald, let us busy ourselves elsewhere." They all left, leaving silence waiting behind them.

My father shut the French doors behind him, leaving me in a closed room with the Egg Head.

I waited for him to speak, but as the seconds stacked up to a full minute, it became unbearable, "Well, it's unexpected for you to be here, Flint. Surely you must have a purpose. I suppose you've measured your mantle and are now ready to make sure I'll fit properly?" I asked, raising a brow with a smirk idling on my face.

He barked a short laugh, "I've never sized you up as a trophy."

"And I've never gotten on a broomstick in the rain," I replied, fighting the temptation to roll my eyes.

"You're smirking..." He remarked, grinning as he looked at my face.

"I was not." I frowned, straightening myself, and staring at my fingernails. Rats, I would need to get a manicure before Pansy's ball...

"Push your pride aside, and answer me this. Tomorrow evening, You and I, and dinner?"

"Well the first and the latter sound rather agreeable, it's the part that comes in between that I'm not so sure about." I fired off—once again not using my censor. I smiled sweetly, "Pray Tell, Marcus, what are your intentions towards me?" I teased, trying to create a nicer air. I didn't want him to get offended—now that, would most certainly get me in trouble.

"Courting you as a proper gentleman should." He replied honestly, and shamelessly. I did admire his adherent bravery. "See, as a gentleman of fortune, I am in want of a wife." I laughed lightly.

"And you quote pride and prejudice—now surely, that is not something _manly_."

He smiled lightly—sweetly. Not harshly as if I were a prize he'd won. That was a welcome change, "Well, my mother told me to say that. That if I did it may help matters."

"Help matters? You're haughty, Marcus. You really believe that you need help in the matter?"

He blushed, "Are you saying that you fancy me?" He asked, "And of course I need help—you'll have numerable suitors. I would not be surprised if I were not the first one."

"Quite an intelligent assumption."

"So I'm not the first one?"

"Truthfully?" I asked, he nodded, hanging onto my every word, "No, you are not the first one. The first was Uther Verne. He called round Sunday evening. I had brunch with him on Monday." I replied, "The second, was Victor _Crumb_—he came on Monday whilst I was with Uther—"

"It's Krum," Flint replied, laughing.

"Oh, Yes. Krum, well, while he was waiting to speak with me, he ended up having quite a long talk with Blair. And by the time I arrived he'd carefully secured a Tuesday dinner with her. Monday evening, Alberic Grunnion came over, but mother and father declined that immediately—seeing as he already has a wife." I laughed lightly, "And then, Tuesday, some elderly wizard whose name I cannot recall came over, but they declined him too, his marriage isn't...advantageous enough." I replied, "After him was—"

"That's enough," he cut me off, I looked at him with a raised brow.

"What—_can't_ take competition?" I teased.

"No, I can't." He replied, "So, instead of answering my question, you're completely avoiding the subject." I didn't move to answer him, for I couldn't. it seemed as if flint were truly bipolar in his treatment of me. Nice...cocky...nice...overly haughty...

"You didn't exactly ask me properly." I defended myself, squaring my jaw.

"You gave Uther Verne a chance, give me one too?"

I pursed my lips, "Well, Uther Verne is a quidditch captain, I don't know Marcus..." I teased.

"Why don't you know? We've known each other our whole lives." He argued.

"Well, let me think about it," I tortured him, I chewed on my lip for a millisecond, "Well, I suppose it couldn't hurt."

"I knew you'd say yes," He let out a low breath—one that I hadn't realized he'd been holding. And finally, shoved his hands (which he had just been ringing frantically) into his pockets. He looked very well at ease.

"You did not." I corrected, rolling my eyes as I massaged my left foot. Okay, my feet did hurt from wearing heels all day. However, that's just part of the package—it's part of the deal. If a woman wants to look elegant and respectable it's necessary.

"You want me to do that for you?" He offered, jerking his head in the direction of my foot. I laughed nervously, lightly.

"No, Thanks. I'll manage." I replied, quickly tucking my foot underneath my other leg, letting my skirt cover my criss-crossed legs.

"Can I be honest and admit something?" He looked at me, and just for a split second I really thought I was attracted to him. Something in the way his eyes sparked with mine, it made this warmth spread from my head, and straight into my toes. I closed my eyes, _This is egg headed Flint, Hayley_...

I massaged my temples, breathing slowly for a second. Looking up, I pushed the hair back from my face, Flint looked puzzled. "Sure, be my guest." I replied, waving a hand for him to continue.

"Well," he took a deep breath and started staring fixatedly at his black Italian leather shoes, "Growing up, I always had a crush on you," he admitted, laughing lightly, and brushing his hair back from his head with a nervous hand. I fought the urge to giggle, but thankfully forced it back down as it fought its way through my throat, "And I didn't want to say anything about it when we were little. You were so intimidating," He admitted, finally looking at me with his gorgeous brown eyes.

"Why'd you like me so much, then? I was intimidating and Boobless..." I teased.

"You were extraordinary. You were the most beautiful creature I'd ever beheld." Oh great, so he's comparing me to a creature now... "You were so strong, and determined, and opinionated, and everything else wonderful I can't even begin to describe."

"And you never wanted to say anything about my wonderful-ness because?" I asked, raising a brow and regarding him with a truly curious expression.

"And I was never wanted to say anything about it because," He stopped off, looking at me with pursed lips.

He didn't say anything for a few seconds, and I allowed him the room for the air around us to still to a complete silence. Because, What? Why was he torturing me? Why didn't he want to say anything about it?

I watched him, waiting for him to answer, but he didn't.

"Because?" I hinted.

"Don't get mad at me when I say this," He continued, "Promise me that."

"O—" I raised a brow, "Okay." I promised—it was a false promise, of course. No one can honestly predetermine if they really will get mad at something another says or not...

"Well, I always thought you were in love with someone else..." These words didn't make sense in my head.

"Who?" I questioned, still trying to put together the pieces in the puzzle.

"Well, I," He took a deep breath and looked uncomfortable.

"Oh, Just stop beating around the bush already! Say it," I commanded. That is a secret most girls do not know—how easy it is to control a man. All it takes is the right tone of voice, the right smile...

"Well, I just thought you were in love with Draco and it was hopeless." He said quickly and quietly, but I managed to successfully pick out all the words.

"You thought I was in love with Draco?" I laughed nervously.

"Everyone did—I mean, when we were younger everyone thought that the two of you were going to be married as soon as appropriate. The invitations were practically already sent out. " He stated as if all this should be obvious to me.

It's like pouring salt on a wound that hasn't healed. Like pouring hot water on cold skin...

I tried not to show my discomfort, so instead, in a weak voice I asked—"And what made you decide that this was not the case any longer?"

"Well, on Saturday I was in despair," He started—I assumed he was backtracking, he continued, "It seemed as if all those long years you'd been away hadn't changed anything between you and Draco. I knew that he'd sort of moved on, with Pansy. But I knew that if you still expressed feelings for him, he'd change his mind.

"Saturday—you did seem as if you still harbored feelings for him. But then, Sunday. You didn't show particular preference for Draco. You didn't show particular preference for anyone...So I got hope." He got hope from me not showing preference in anyone—himself included?

"And then I came here, and I asked you to join me for dinner, laying my intentions on the table. And you didn't decline me, so I have hope." He finished, staring at me with such a heartfelt expression that my heart did indeed melt. I was feeling quite frosty towards him earlier, but now, now—everything was better.

It was quite peculiar; I was feeling something for Egg Head...

He waited for me to say something in response to his spilled heart on the ground. So I responded.

And I did something that's terrible, that's wrong, and just evil.

I lied.


	7. Chapter 7

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I put on my coyest smile, and looked down, staring at him through my thick eyelashes, "Well, you see Marcus," I opted for his first name instead of his surname. It's much more intimate and would greatly impact the situation, "I've sort of," I tried being embarrassed and shy, as I laughed nervously, "liked you too." I concluded, looking up and directly into his eyes.

Then, just as if it were magic...he was entranced.

What?

I'm a flirt...

Of course, it was a lie—but somehow, when I said it, even I thought it was a little true. His answering smile was incandescent. It didn't seem like lying was that big of a deal when it made someone else happy. And no, I'm not self sacrificing. Ha, Don't even think that I am.

"I can't believe it," He reacted giddily, "I thought that you've always fancied—" He trailed off as if he, himself couldn't finish the sentence.

"Draco?" I could finish the sentence, "Well you've already said that, and I've already denounced it."

He looked a little puzzled, "Actually, you never said that it wasn't true."

I gave him my sweetest smile as it masked my panic well. My heartbeat spiked, beating an irregular, frantic rhythm. _I didn't love Draco Malfoy_. I didn't.

"Well, Silly, I am now."

This answer satisfied him for present, though knowing the male mind, I'm sure that it will remain a lurking suspicion in the back of his head and a source of jealousy. I'd have to be careful.

"So, you'll really dine with me? Tomorrow evening?"

"I did say I would, didn't I?"

He laughed lightly, "You did."

"Well then," I replied, looking at him with an vulnerable expression, "I guess that's that. What time will you be picking me up?"

"Seven?"

"Flint—"

"Please, Darling, call me Marcus now." He interjected, if he'd lost any of his confidence before, he'd most certainly found it.

"Okay, Marcus," I nearly purred, "You don't have to make that sound like a question, as the man in this relationship," his face lit up when I said the word relationship—a misconception amongst men, that they were in charge in the relationship. The woman lets him pretend that he's in charge, but with subtle suggestions, she influences every decision, "you are more than apt to chose the time for which we shall dine."

"I'll be picking you up at seven then," He stood up, and walked over towards me, I was afraid he'd be so bold as to kiss me now, however he settled for a kiss on the forehead, "I cannot wait for tomorrow, Parting is such sweet sorrow," he began, pulling my hand off my knee and holding it within his own, "That I must say farwell, til it be morrow."

"Your mother has you quoting Romeo and Juliet, as well?"

"No, that I knew to do on my own."

"Marcus flint, you've been raised well," I replied this time letting the innocence drop from my face, I smoldered as I watched him leave—and I could see in his face (and in his pants) that leaving was the last thing he wanted to do.

When the doors closed behind him, I began to regret my decision.

Why did I do that? It wasn't like I liked flint that way—I mean, I'm sure that I could grow to like him. I sort of did like him, he was handsome, he was usually nice, and he really did care about me.

It's just that I like someone else more...love, not like. I'm in love with someone—someone that I should have been able to get over. But I never did, I never could. It's pathetic—I was eight years old when I fell in love with Draco Malfoy. An eight year old doesn't know love.

There's no way that what I felt was real...

Then why, everytime I see him, do I get the same feeling in my stomach?

As soon as I thought I had peace and begun to think over what I'd really just agreed to, my mother came bursting into the room, my father in tow. He with a subdued expression, she looked as if she were nearly about to wet herself from excitement.

"You agreed to dine with Marcus Flint!" She enthralled—as if she didn't realize that this was just about two minutes ago, and I had completely forgotten entirely.

I faked a yawn, "Yes, I did...now, if you'd excuse me, I must get off to bed." She nodded, and bid me goodnight.

Dressing for the date with Flint was harder than I imagined.

I went through a plethora of outfits, finding fault in every one.

I ended up settling with an deep emerald silk cocktail dress. It hugged my hips gracefully, and had a very vintage halter neckline—very Nineteen Forties. I chose my favorite pair of black peek a boo stiletto heels.

I left my hair down and curly, making the curls more tame, and less wild than they usually preferred to be.

I wanted to make a statement with the earrings I chose; I frantically searched through my jewelry box, knowing I _had_ to have the perfect pair. I found a lot of fancy, diamond earrings—an assortment of rubies, even more emeralds—but green earrings would be a little too much for this outfit.

Then, I found them. Pear drop earrings in onyx.

I threaded the earrings through my ears, and did a final once over on my makeup. I had simple, pale pink lips—and darkened eyes. I didn't usually do heavy eye, simple lip, usually I did heavy lip, simple eye...but there was something sexy about the opposite look.

I found, in my heart—that I was excited about going out with Flint...I mean, Marcus. He was likable, he was handsome, he was a gentleman. I could see myself falling for him, ardently.

I took another sip of tea, careful not to mess up my makeup—"What herb did you say this was, Mother? It's quite delicious?"

"It's chamomile and mint, with a hint of vanilla."

"And something else..." I muttered, I sat the glass down looking into the mirror once more, I studied my eyes. Yes, I would find flint very agreeable.

"Hayley?" Marie stuck her head into my room, a giddy smile on her face, "Flint is here for you." I nodded once, and taking one glance in the full length mirror—this dress made my hips hypnotic.

As I made my way down the stairs, I saw that flint saw this too.

I made my way to him, and we left without any further words.

On the front porch, he grabbed my hand, and held me out from him, "You look," he sighed, "Wow."

"Wow?" I cocked my head to the side, "I was previously unaware that 'wow' was something a person could look."

He chuckled, "Wow—you look lovely, breathtaking, amazing," he looked into my eyes, and once again my stomach did that weird fuzzy thing. "Absolutely beautiful."

"As opposed to usual?" I teased.

"I wouldn't have thought that a woman could look more beautiful," he replied, "I wouldn't think that it was possibly for you to look more beautiful, surely, there must be a limit somewhere—but your beauty shows no signs of stopping." I smothered the laughter that fought to be free, "But let me not dawdle, the hour is late, and I'm sure that you're hungry."

He pulled me in, closer, until my body was pressed against his, "Close your eyes," he replied, I did so, safely nestling my head in his chest.

With an audible crack, we were transported to another place. I slowly stepped back from him—side along apparation was dizzy-making, I held onto his hand.

"Ah, Mister Flint—let me show you and your lovely date to your table." I looked around, we were in an upscale restaurant that I didn't recognize. Maybe, that was due to the fact that it was not in France, and as of late, I was no longer in France.

The maitre d led us to a table outside, in the center of a gazebo, covered in greenery, and lit with small, tiny fairies swarming around.

I sat down in the seat he pulled out for me. The hazy glow created a very romantic atmosphere, and I couldn't help but notice the cute dimples in Flint's cheeks when he smiled. The smile on his face was almost contagious, in a strange glow. I couldn't help but look at him with the same glow.

Dinner went lovely, as lovely as I could have asked for. He chose the courses, and the desert, but that was okay. That's what he was supposed to do. conversation flowed easily for us, and we exchanged stories of the last several years.

"I'm really glad that you said yes, Hayley." He commented looking at me through his lashes—if I didn't know better I'd have thought he was flirting with me.

Oh wait, this is the reality that I live in now—a reality which I'm on a date with Flint...

Who would have thought...?

_"Flint keeps looking at us funny," I whispered in Draco's ear with an edge of malice in my voice. My ten year old self struggled to keep her hair out of her face—it hung in chaos down her back._

_"It's probably because he thinks you're pretty," Draco whispered back._

_"No way. I'm not pretty." I replied—still in whispers, taking glimpses at Flint._

_"What are you over there whispering about, Bennett?" Flint looked nervous, jumpy even, I wondered why._

_"How egg shaped your head is," I replied, shoving a hand on my hip._

_"Egg shaped? Coming from you—the Boobless Bennett?" I crossed my arms over my chest instinctively and shook my mane of hair down my back. I clenched my hand into a fist, and lunged for him, Draco pulled me back._

_"Don't do anything, Hayley—it's not worth it. He's just being a jerk." I ignored Draco, inwardly pleased at his hands holding mine, and leaned around him to look at Flint._

_"You know what, Egg head?" I hissed, "That'll change. Just because I haven't grown boobs yet, doesn't mean I won't. but you know what?"_

_"What?" he asked haughtily._

_"Your egg head will never change." Draco kept trying to hide me, behind him. I didn't need to be protected by a boy, Draco knew this—but I suppose he just wanted to be chivalrous._

_"There you are, Draco, protecting your little girlfriend." Flint gave Draco a nasty look._

"You know, maybe your head would change, if we chopped it off for you. You want to see if it'll regrow?" Draco offered, smirking at Flint—over all sporting a self satisfied expression. 

_"Don't smirk, Draco!" I hissed, "It's stupid." I groaned, smacking him upside his head._

_"Hey! Don't mess up my hair!" He took a hand and slicked it back into place._

_"You two are something else." Flint muttered, "Both of you are freaks—perfect for each other."_

I was infuriated by this, "You know what though?" I countered, "They don't make freaks like you. You'll never have anyone."

_"Oh, I'm so scared! A bunch of six year olds are condemning my life to be lived alone!"  
_

_"I'm eleven," I narrowing my eyes. _

_"I'm thirteen," Flint replied, as if this made everything better._

_"Together, Hayley and I are twenty two—"_

"Yeah," I interjected, "We're older than you, so you should listen to us."

_"Oooh, I'm scared."_

"Hayley?" I snapped out of the flashback, shaking my head, feeling my hair tickle my eyebrows, "Is everything alright?"

I smiled, but it was faulty—I presumed that flint took notice so I sighed, "I was just thinking about how things used to be, I would have never thought that things would end up the way they have."

He laughed lightly, "I wouldn't have ever dreamed..."

_"Don't listen to him," Draco pulled on my hands, wiping the tear from my cheek, "He's just a stupid power hungry weenie. He only feels like a boy when he picks on girls."_

"You're just saying that," I laughed.

_"No, I'm not. And the prettier the girl is, the more powerful he feels. Don't take anything from him, Hayley." I squared my jaw, suddenly ashamed I'd let Draco seen me cry._

_"Like I would."_

He laughed lightly, taking in the serious expression of my face, "So I don't have to worry about you ever dating him, do I?"

_"No." I laughed at the absurdity, "As if—I wouldn't date Mucus Flint." Draco laughed at our little nickname for Flint._

_"You better not. He likes you, I'm telling you." It was my turn to laugh._

_"I don't know why you always say that."_

_"Just promise me, you won't date him? He's not good."_

_"I promise, Draco."_

"Is everything alright?" Flint looked at my puzzled expression.

"Yes, I'm just growing tired. And you know, Tomorrow is Pansy's ball—I've got a big day ahead of me."

"Yes, very true—well let's take you home."

I smiled, "I had a lovely evening, Flint."

"I've asked you, Call me Marcus."

"Okay, Marcus."

"Well, there's one more thing I wanted to ask, I know that it's the first date—but I must secure your answer. I want to know that we're exclusive. I've already secured your parents favor and approval. I'd like to remain close to you from here on. I have every intentions of seeking your hand, and wooing you in my favor. But first, I'd like to know that you're only involved with me. I'm not proposing, but I'm sort of preproposing, I don't want us to be as trite as boyfriend-girlfriend—those words sound childish. I'm proposing the idea of proposing. We'll enter the dating phase, that's true, but we will both know that a formal betrothal is on its way."

I couldn't say no—that would question my honor, but I couldn't say yes, either—that would break a promise I made.

"Hayley?"

"That's a big offer to make, Flint." I replied, "I will have to think about it." I tried to smile sweetly, "Over talk it with my parents." There was no way I could get out of this now...

"I already talked about it with your parents. They heartily give their consent."

"Then I suppose," I swallowed hard, "My answer is yes."


	8. Chapter 8

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

"It's late, Hayley," My mother said as soon as I walked in the door, "Are you going to bed?"

"I know it's late, I'm sorry," I turned and looked at her, "But there's something that I've got to do first before I can go to bed." I replied, "I won't be out long—I just need," I looked down, "I just need to go see Pansy—about tomorrow, her ball and things, There's just something I need to secure first."

"Okay, Darling—don't stay out too late."

"I won't, mother." I replied, kissing her on top of the head before exiting the parlor. I quickly went upstairs, changing into a pair of cropped jeans, and a tight scoop necked emerald green shirt. I looked in the mirror, frantically running my fingers through my curls, trying to make my appearance more casual and less formal. I used my wand to redo my makeup—just leaving on some mascara, a hint of eyeliner, and a light gloss.

I finished, slipping into a pair of Zac Posen black flats, and headed out onto my balcony. I closed my eyes, and focused, I pictured the green, grassy slope of the lawn, the pond that nestled there at the end.

I pictured the window, so much like my own, that I hadn't seen in years—with a final wish of hope, I closed my eyes tight and whisked away into the night.

Seconds later, I was standing on Draco Malfoy's balcony.

I saw him look up from a book that he'd been reading, his eyes went from narrowed slits, to as wide as saucers. In a mere matter of seconds, he was standing, striding across the room and to my side.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, shutting the glass door behind him, leaving us out in the dusk—standing on his balcony.

"I had to come see you," I muttered, "I need to set things right."

"Why? What's going on?"

"I lied to you Draco, I lied, lied, lied." I muttered, I looked down, not baring to look at his face. I couldn't see what his reaction was. I wouldn't let myself.

"What are you talking about?" He put his hand under my chin, and lifted my face to see his own, and I felt my eyes welling up with tears.

"Let's start with the easiest, and most obvious. I broke a promise to you—"

"What are you talking about?"

"Do you know how, you made me promise you that I'd never enter any sort of union with Marcus?" I looked at his eyes, those icy blue eyes that I always managed to melt.

"Tell me you didn't," I sat down on the little bench that he had decorating his private haven—that's what his balcony had always been to him. I motioned for him to sit, and he did.

"Well, I'm going to start with where it began, My mother and father were instantly for Flint and I being a match, and I sort of entertained the idea. And then he started calling around the house, and I started screwing with him, flirting but being mean at the same time, I don't know how to describe it. I was just leading him on for a bit of fun,"

He poked the tip of my nose with his finger, "You, dear, live too much up to your Merlin given name. You're becoming quite the scarlet," I widened my eyes.

"Draco Archibald!" I chided.

"Only joking, Except, not really...But, continue in your story. So you're leading Flint on..."

"Yes, and he asks me to dinner, and I go with him, and then, at the end of dinner, he tells me that he's already secured my hand with my parents."

"You can say no."

"No, I cannot. It would be dishonorable for me to disagree with whom they've chosen. He's like a hunter, Draco—he laid out the trap and he's already got me ensnared."

"Well, it sounds like that's what you wanted. You haven't seemed to mind him as of late, and you've already expressed that you no longer have feelings for me." His tone was cold, and his eyes began to freeze again.

"But that's the other part that I hadn't told you," I fidgeted on the bench, turning to look at the stars rather than at him. I could feel that he was watching me, I just couldn't look at him, "I lied about something else as well." I snuck a peek at his face, trying to read him, I think he knew exactly what I was about to say, "Draco, I do still have feelings for you. It's been hard for me to admit, but I do—I do, and I shouldn't."

"Why shouldn't you?"

"Because—that was seven years ago, I wasn't old enough to know what I wanted in life. I wasn't old enough to fall in love. I wasn't old enough to meet the person that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, I wasn't supposed to do any of that."

"I don't know what to tell you, Hayley. You've created quite a mess of things, and it isn't my job to clean up after your mistakes anymore." His face was cold, but then, for a second he softened, "You always were the reckless one."

I laughed bitterly—"That's not going to help me now."

"I think you're just getting ahead of yourself, Hayley. He hasn't proposed. The two of you are just casually dating. You haven't gotten caught in a trap that you can't find your way out of." I sighed, leaning my head onto his shoulder.

"Why have you always been the sensible one?"

"Because you're such a hot head," He replied, patting the top of my head gently. I sighed, "So, you stopped explaining things. You shouldn't love me...that's all you've really said."

"I do still love you." I looked at him, my face full of sadness and longing, "It just doesn't make sense why I do."

"Love doesn't make sense, Hayley. You're making this more complicated than it is."

I shook my head, "We didn't know anything about us back then—how could we have honestly thought we loved each other?"

"How does anyone know that they love each other?"

"I don't know," I muttered, staring at my feet.

"Hey, Everything is going to be okay." He wrapped his arms around me and pulled me closer.

"How can you say that? You're no seer."

"Because I have faith in optimism."

"You? Draco Malfoy? Have faith in something?"

"I've always had faith in you," he replied softly, "Now, what do we do about this all? You're practically engaged to Flint, and my parents are encouraging me to be with Pansy..."

"I don't know Draco, I don't think we can be together," then something hit my mind, and I grinned, twisting myself to where I could look into his eyes, "You love me?"

"I always have, and I don't think I'll ever stop loving you."

"Draco, I don't know what we're going to do. I really don't." I sighed again, picking at a loose thread in my jeans.

"We'll figure something out."

* * *

"Why'd you decide on a masquerade?" I asked Pansy, as I sat next to her in her room, putting my mask up to my face, and admiring the way my hair fanned out around it.

"Because no one else was having one—and I need to make a statement." She finished slicking her black hair into a coif, "Help me get my mask on?"

"Sure," I sat my mask down, and stood behind her, pulling the flimsy black thing tight to her face and tying it delicately at the back of her head, it was sheer fabric, adorned with lots of crystals and diamonds—as generic as her dress. I sat back down, pulling my mask on, and fastening it behind my ears. It was red, exquisite with phoenix feathers flowing from the top points above the eyes. It had some gold detail, and very tastefully had a mix on onyx, rubies, and diamonds.

"You look like a siren," Pansy remarked as I swathed my lips in red lipstick.

I looked at her with my eyes widened, "I can't sing to save my life."

"That's true," She remarked, laughing lightly, "But you still look like a siren."

Not too long after, I put on my exquisite, crimson-blood red mermaid dress, it hugged my figure perfectly, showing it to its best advantage. It wasn't haute couture from Paris, but it was something extraordinary none the less. Judging by the whispers as I entered, late of course, everyone else thought so as well.

I had worn black gloves for this ball, regardless of my mother's appreciation for my dark mark. And I felt like a siren as I walked down the stairs, the way that the men watched me pleased me...

Draco was right, I thought, I am living up to my name...

Speaking of Draco..."Well, well, well, might I have the first dance you give away this evening?" he grabbed my hand and bowed.

"I would certainly like that," I replied, curtsying, with a coy smile playing on my face.

"You look exquisite," He commented.

"Not out of the ordinary," I replied, his mask was black, and simple—no frills.

"Quite true." He remarked, smirking...and for once in my life (Okay, maybe not once, but it was a rarity) I succumbed to that sexy little smirk with a smolder of my own.

"Draco Archibald Malfoy—"

"I know, I know, I'm smirking."

"I liked it," I widened my eyes, "The world is ending, is it not?"

"It is." He smiled this time, not smirked, the song was jazzy, and so he decided to spin me, I faltered twirling back in, teetering on my heels I collided into him, and we both went down on the hard ballroom floor.

The hall quieted, as people turned to see what had caused the loud noise. Rather unbecomingly, I let the laughter ring from my lips, Draco laughed too. And we laid in the floor seconds too long, our limbs entangled in wanton embrace.

He finally stood up before I did, offering me his hand, and pulling me up to him, we collided again—only this time on purpose. He pulled me close to him, and bent down in my ear, "Pansy will never forgive you. This is her ball, and here you are, becoming the talk of it," He teased.

I disentangled myself from him, laughing merrily, I playfully slapped him on the arm, "Why, good sir, it was naught but your fault I took quite a fall. A good dancer wouldn't have spun his partner so fast that she nearly lost her balance."

"A good partner would have been more cautious in heels."

"You just wanted to be close to me," I teased, leaning away from him, to prove my point. He pulled me back in.

"So, what of it?" I giggled, as he looked down at me with that look men give women, when they're feeling lusty.

"Well, that is what will raise the talk." I continued to giggle.

He laughed at my face—or my response, I couldn't be sure, perhaps both, "I think we've both had too much champagne. Let's go sit for a while," He decided, lacing his fingers through mine and pulling me away from the dance floor. We found a lounge couch, nestled not too far from the floor, but far enough away, and collapsed, I giggled as my shoe slid off my foot.

He picked up my shoe, and pulled my feet into his lap, carefully sliding my foot back into my strappy heels, and securing the strap around my ankle. I noticed his fingers lingered on my leg longer the necessary, but I didn't say anything.

"You look ravishing," He replied.

"Are you going to eat me?" I teased.

"Nay, but I might."

"I'm so terrified."

"Hayley, perhaps, you'd entertain the idea of the next dance with myself?" I noticed that Flint was so green with envy, his mask almost blended into his face.

"No, She won't."

"You have no authority over her decisions, Malfoy. Besides, I already asked her father—my name is recorded on her dance card." I hated that they resorted to such medieval methods...that was definitely from the Victorian era.

I looked at Draco with a bewildered expression, "I guess I'll see you later."

I continued off in Flint's arms, back to the dance floor of doom. I only hoped that I didn't have the same misfortunes as I did previously, "I thought we'd agreed to be exclusive to one another."

"We did."

"The behavior you conducted with Malfoy earlier didn't honor that decision." He barked.

"Oh, don't be silly—he's one of my dearest friends."

"If you say so," He sighed, and apparently I was forgiven. "You look magical this evening."

"Thank you," I replied.

We kept talking to a minimum, and as the dance slowed to it's final chords, there was a tap on Flints shoulder.

"I have secured the next five dances on Hayley's dance card, So excuse me, Marcus." Marcus muttered something, and ran off to secure the rest of the dances on my card, only little did he know that Draco, after this five, had filled himself in for every other two.

"You did not!" I exclaimed when he confessed this to me.

"I did," He smirked.

"How did you manage that? Oh, Draco! You shouldn't have! That's going to create talk. Two dances with the same partner look funny."

"At the time I signed up, Bellatrix was in charge of your dance card," He replied with a laugh, "Auntie Bella would do anything for her favorite nephew."

"And it doesn't help that it was my dance card, either..." I shook my head.


	9. Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.  
_

Somewhere during the masquerade...

"Oh, I'm so delighted to see that Draco and Hayley are together at last, Narcissa, Lucius." The blonde woman stiffened her spine, regarding the man in front of her and her husband. He was one of the lesser pure bloods—one that wasn't as wealthy as the others, and consequently tried too hard to make up for his lack.

Lucius, shook out his blonde hair, regarding the man with an all knowing look, "I have no idea what on earth you mean."

"Hayley and Draco are not betrothed?"

"No, they most certainly are not."

"My mistake," The man replied, laughing nervously, "I couldn't help but notice his undivided attention to the young Bennett this evening."

On the other side of the ballroom, an elderly woman who still believed she was in her prime—what we call a gold digger and a cougar approached the Bennett couple, "I knew the day would come—I must congratulate you on your youngest daughter's engagement."

"Oh, well She and Marcus are not official yet, although I expect a formal proposal any day now. He is quite besotted with her."

"Marcus? Why, I was talking about the young Mister Malfoy," The cougar replied, never letting go of her glass of champagne.

Misses Bennett raked the room with her eyes, trying to find her daughter. And when she did, the sight she saw was not welcome. For her youngest daughter was looking too comfortable in Draco Malfoy's arms. She shoed the cougar away and turned to her husband with a look, a single look that conveyed failure.

"Archibald, she's not supposed to be with Draco. Why, you know as well as I that he's practically engaged to the little Parkinson girl. Aphrodite is interfering with fate, Archibald. We must fix her course." The wife looked guilty, and a giggle slipped out, "I did accidently slip some love potion into her tea the other day, now I see that it's going to be necessary. We did this to Hera—so she wouldn't end up with that Weasley scum—"

"But she did end up with the Weasley scum," Archibald pointed out to his wife, "We mustn't interfere."

"Her interests are at stake here, Archibald. We must do what we must."

He let out a long sigh, "I suppose you're right." He stood up to his tallest, and looked at his wife with a commanding eye, "However, you are to pay more attention to our daughters emotions and opinions this time. We do not need a fiasco like last time." His tone was final.

"Of course," She smiled sweetly, and nodded to her husband—but didn't mean to honor that promise.

"Five more minutes, Mum," I groaned into the pillow, using my free hand to swat at the air, trying to shoo her away, I harrumphed...I tossed and turned for several minutes, realizing it was the middle of the night and my mother hadn't woke me up.

I bolted up, my sheet falling to the floor, my arm was burning...

I turned and looked at my left forearm, the dark mark appeared...I don't know..._darker_ than usual, and the edges of it glowed green. I felt my eyes widen as comprehension had befallen on my mind.

I was being summoned...to the dark lord...for the first time.

I shot out of bed, with a newfound sense of enthusiasm. I quickly dressed in black jeans (just too look dark, scary and evil) and pulled on a long sleeved black Grecian top...Even though it was late, I was still expected to look nice. I slipped my feet into a pair of my favorite little Zac Posen black flats, pulled on my black cloak—and with a single look in the mirror.

In the single look, I took in my bedraggled hair—it looked even fiercer than it had at the ball. My makeup, which I'd procrastinated and not taken off was smudged, making my eyes look dark and feline, my lips ruby red. I laughed lightly, some would think I looked scary...

And with that laugh, I apparated to the summoning.

That's the funny thing about being summoned. I knew where I needed to go, but I had no idea what or where it truly was, an image of an abandoned building, that looked somewhere familiar was calling to me—the open countryside suggested it was in Britain or Ireland...

I had a strange sense of excitement; I was nearly bouncing as I steadied myself after apparating. I found myself within a circle of people, conveniently standing next to Draco.

Cracks and pops could be heard all around us—and the murmur of excitement followed.

I was frightened—I know I shouldn't be, after all, I was on the side that people should be frightened of. Naturally, my hand fell into the curve of Draco's. His hand was so strong—so warm, so big, encompassing my own.

"Hush," a cold, chilling voice erupted from the darkness. I recognized the voice—it belonged to the Dark Lord, "You have been summoned here to receive a task." He continued.

"I have Bellatrix and her husband in charge of the finite details, and you will meet with her at a later time to find out the specifics of your individual situations. I am placing all of you in various locations across the world—mostly in the United States, a place known for sin and evil. Your goal is to recruit wizards to our cause. We do not want to interrupt social norms for the area, so you will have to do some reconnaissance and figure out the best way to dive into the scene that you're placed into. It is important that you do not upset the local wizards—if you do, they will never be open to hear your offer. I have chosen the group of you for several reasons. You're new to my army. If things go amiss while you're away, you can be replaced. This mission is not a dangerous one—use common sense, which being pure of blood you all possess, and use your cunning nature, that those more fortunate of us inherit from Salazar Slytherin himself."

There was silence, "Your postings should be waiting for you when you return to your homes. I release you."

The burning in my arm subsided as he muttered those words, something that I was much relieved for.

His task for us, to be honest, didn't sound that important…it sounded like busy work. Why did we need to leave our homes and get "stationed" in places to bring him more members of his army? Were those he had, not satisfactory?

I felt Draco's arms wrap around me, and before I could say a word, I was standing at the edge of his backyard—the sound from the fountain Narcissa had installed bubbling into the small pond, the smell of flowers fragrant in the air.

"What are you doing?" I asked him, my lips turning up into a half smile.

"I'm wide awake," Draco replied with a shrug, "Aren't you?"

I thoughtfully considered my current state, "Actually, I am." I was rather surprised to admit this—it was the middle of the night, and I'd just spent the evening dancing. I should be completely exhausted…but I wasn't. Maybe it was because of his company. I didn't want to leave him, and I could tell by the look in his eyes that he was on a very similar page to mine. "It's quite shocking, isn't it? I mean, we should be exhausted."

"We just got summoned to the dark lord. We have plenty of reasons to be wide awake." He motioned to a bench, located right under a swinging vine of pink blossomed flowers. I sat down on the edge, and swiveled my body to where I could see his face.

With a sudden flash, I was nine. And I was sitting on that particular bench.

"_I was thinking today," Draco started, "and I want to try something." He was nervous. Draco was never the nervous one._

"_What?" _

"_Stay still." He replied, scooting over towards me._

"_What's going on Draco?" I asked, my voice slightly panicked as he stared at me. He'd never stared at me like that—so, almost lovingly somehow._

That was the night of my first kiss. It was completely innocent, don't worry. I remember how excited I was when I went home that night. That was the night I realized I loved Draco Malfoy.

Now, Nine is a little young, I'll admit that. But it was perfect, somehow.

I looked at Draco and noticed that he was deep in thought, as if he were reliving a memory too.

"Were you just thinking about…?" My voice was faint in the night. It was a whisper in the breeze. I trailed off, waiting for his reaction. He turned to look at me, and I was transfixed staring into those deep, blue eyes of his.

"Yes." He replied, I was suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that my knee was causally leaning against his thigh. That light touch, seemed so intimate all of a sudden. And before I knew it, his hand was gently cupping my face, pulling my lips to his for the softest embrace. It was sweet, soft, and delicate.

It was perfection.

I was content, I snuggled into his side, and held his hand with mine.

"Please don't take this the wrong way, but would it be alright with you if I conjured a blanket, for us to lay down on and stare at the stars?" He inquired, I could tell just by looking at him that he had the purest of intentions in his request.

"That sounds lovely," I replied smiling.

In a moment, a cream, plush blanket was spread out on the grass. We walked over to it, gingerly laying down. It was only natural for me to curl into his shoulder, wrapping my arms around his waist. It was even more natural for his arm to hook around my shoulder, drawing me even tighter against him.

"Does this remind you of anything?" I asked him quietly. It reminded me of so much—so much of our youthful woes.

He let out a long sigh, "Yes. Do you remember the star constellations we used to make up?"

I laughed lightly, "I only remember the princess in the tower, the dragon that keeps her there, and her knight."

"Of course that'd be what you remembered. You're such a girl."

I pretended to be offended, "Well at least the tables have turned. You used to be the girlie one."

"I was not." He scoffed.

I giggled, "Uh-huh, Sure."

"I'm not the one who wore ribbons in their hair." He teased. I turned onto my stomach to stare at him, "What?"

"Draco, you were the one who as a child freaked out when his hair was out of place." I replied, a grin on my face.

"I just wanted to look presentable," he replied, "and besides, not all of us can be born with such gorgeous locks." He finished, picking up a piece of my hair and looping it through his fingers. "I should have told you then." I waited for him to continue, but the silence only bloomed.

"Should have told me what?"

"How beautiful you really are to me."

"You think I'm beautiful?"

"I always have." And with that, I was kissing him again. Only this time, it wasn't quite so innocent.

"And what exactly is going on here?" I heard a bemused voice ask. Was I dreaming? Wait, where was I?

I opened my eyes slowly, only seeing the dark color of a man's shirt. I was suddenly aware of a hand in my hair, another arm steadily encircling my waist. The torso that I clung to. The legs mine were entwined with. I was so comfortable, and I didn't want to leave the embrace, but I had to.

I was so tightly held by Draco, that I wasn't able to get very far—he was still asleep, as he'd always been a heavy sleeper and me the opposite, I wasn't surprised.

I was however surprised to see Narcissa standing over us, a bemused expression on her face.

"Um, Good Morning, Narcissa." I replied sheepishly.

I was expecting her to scold me for such unladylike behavior.

Instead, she laughed.

"What's going on?" Draco muttered, still half asleep, and pulling me closer to him.

I laughed, "Draco, um, it's time to wake up."

He opened his eyes hesitantly, "Who are you talking to?"

"_Your mother_, dear." Narcissa replied—I could tell by the tone in her voice she was greatly enjoying this.

His eyes widened, and he finally let go of me, sitting up and pushing his tousled hair back from his face.

I stood up slowly, smoothing my shirt, "I think I should probably get home before my parents realize I'm not there." I said with a light laugh.

"It's still early enough to where they'll have no idea, sweetheart. And I'll keep my lips sealed," She promised.

I gave her a sympathetic look, "Thank you."

I grabbed my cloak, and my wand and was about to apparate—but then I felt a tug on my wrist, turning, my lips collided with Draco in a goodbye kiss.

I broke off the kiss far sooner than I would have liked, chiding him, "Draco Archibald. In front of your mother…?"

"It's quite alright, dear. Just don't make a habit of it. From what I've heard, this one is already engaged." She replied, her voice implying she knew more than she was letting on.

"Well, um, I've got to go." And with a half wave, I disapparated, reappearing in my bedroom.

My owl sat on the edge of my balcony, and I noticed a letter on my pillow.

I instantly recognized the handwriting to be Bella's…

"Hayley Darling," it began…

_I have prepared your assignment—and you'll be departing shortly for your destination. Please come see me this afternoon—we'll discuss business at one. _

_I'd like to invite you to brunch—this time, no previous obligations. I'll see you at eleven, if that's alright. Unless you inform me of that this is not acceptable to your schedule, I'll see you then._

_Much Love,_

_Aunty Bella_

I looked at the clock on my bedside table; it was fifteen after ten…


	10. Chapter 10

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter

My computer has deleted this part three times. I'm about to give up. Haha.

I hurried through a shower, trying to let the water calm my frazzled nerves. Nothing had happened between Draco and I last night, spare a few stolen kisses. But that was it. We'd barely talked, even. We'd just laid there. Quietly. Dependently, yet independently. And completely in tune.

I pushed the thoughts from my mind, and focused on assembling an outfit in my head as I turned the water off, and wrapped myself in my bathrobe. Upon entering my room, I smelt the overpowering aroma of warm tea. The sight of the cup sitting in it's matching saucer on my vanity instantly soothed me. I grabbed the cup with shaky fingers, and took a rather large (and unladylike gulp). It was the same strange brew that Mother had the house elves brew for me as of late. There was just an herb I couldn't place. I wasn't too worried about it, whatever it was made this tea the most delicious tea I'd ever tasted.

Sitting at my vanity, I began ruggedly running my fingers through my hair, trying to get all the knots and kinks out of it as I pondered how to wear it for the day.

"Darling," I looked up dreamily, only in the mirror to see my mother standing in my doorway, "Please inform me why the car just pulled around for you?" She placed a hand on her hip, and I could tell. She knew all about last night.

"I'm going to eat brunch at Bella's today." I replied quietly.

"And after that?" She looked at me stonily.

"I don't know. I might hang out with Draco," I suggested, she didn't look very approving of me. I hoped she didn't know about last night, "You know, just to catch up—as old friends." I finished nervously.

"That's quite unacceptable!" She hissed, "We need to talk, Young Lady." She looked like she was made of stone—she had all the characteristics of a marble statue. And in this conversation I knew that her heart would be just that.

With the look she was giving me, I could tell that she new. Nervously, I twisted my hair into a bun at the nape of my neck, "What about last night, Mother? It meant nothing." I said, and somehow I believed that.

"Nothing?" She sounded infuriated, "_Nothing_?" She dramatically repeated for emphasis. "Darling, I would not call spending the night with another man—a man whom you are not betrothed to nothing!"

"I'm not betrothed to Victor, either." I pointed out, although it seemed like a weak argument, I hastily picked up the flowery tea cup, and took a rather large sip.

"You are in every sense. Your father and I have agreed—and in these matters your opinion means little. We thought that we would be fair, and nice, and let you fall in love with him on your own time. However, if you're going to act out in public—disgracing us with your behavior with Draco Malfoy, then we'll have to be less fair." I took another sip of tea, trying to imagine the herbs kicking in and soothing my frazzled nerves, "You need to be back here by at least five o'clock. You have plans, did you forget?"

I looked at her with a puzzled expression—my head felt funny. Yet I was somehow calm, "What plans?"

"The Flint's are hosting a cocktail party this evening. You are expected to be on Marcus' arm for the night." She looked over at me disapprovingly, "If you can muster getting back here by three-thirty at the latest, you can come with me to go shopping. You'll need something new." And with that, she stood up and left my room without any further comments. I sat at my vanity, frozen, trying to recount everything that she just said. I tried to remember what I wanted to argue back about—but as I sat there, sipping from my tea, I couldn't recall it.

She'd acted like she had to be so commanding for me to attach myself to Flint's arm. That was positively outrageous! Of course I'd be more than willing to do that. He was my soon to be betrothed.

I set my half drank cup back onto my vanity, applying some black winged eyeliner, before entering my closet. I slipped into a red silk dress, with an empire waist and a deep v neckline. I finished by slipping my feet into a pair of black gladiator sandals, and grabbing a pair of black, red, and silver bohemian styled earrings before running out the door.

I was barely five minutes late to Bella's, but she didn't seem to mind. We talked mostly about things of little to no importance during brunch, how we all were—about the weather, and such. After Rodolphus had left, and the fourth glass of orange juice I'd consumed, my head started feeling clearer. And that's when the feeling of panic came back to me.

"Are you alright?" Bella asked. I supposed I had gotten twitchy. I was spastically refolding and arranging my napkin.

"Yes, fine." I replied sweetly.

"Darling, I don't believe you." She honestly countered, placing a hand on top of my furiously tapping fingers, "Why are you so jittery?"

"A lot of reasons," I took a deep breath.

"Well, I understand if you don't want to talk about them with me. But, remember darling, I'm here if you need me."

"I do know that—I'm just, more confused than anything."

"Let me guess, it's about your mother?"

"Well, yes," I replied, "It does have quite a lot to do with her."

"It usually does. Let me guess—it also has to do with your recent very soon to be engaged status, doesn't it?" I stared at her questioningly. How did she know that? "We all go through that." She added lightly, "Do you like Marcus?"

"He's nice to me, he's smart, funny, handsome. My parents absolutely adore him. He'd be a really great match for me—he's what every girl; girls like me need."

"But?" She asked, "You've got the edge hesitance in your voice. What aren't you saying?"

"But, I always thought that as a little girl, when I'd pictured this moment—this moment where it got clearer to showing me the person that I was going to end up with," I took a breath, I couldn't say it—I couldn't tell her. I didn't even know that's what I meant—or what I felt, "I just didn't think it would happen so fast. I thought I'd have more time to mingle, and see the world for myself before I settled with that one person." I finished, trying to sum up how I was feeling without admitting to anything.

"I know how you feel. Draco and Lucius have been in love since they were five years old," I was suddenly imagining me, at five. A short girl, with round cheeks, untamable curly hair and a plethora of freckles. I imagined five year old me standing next to five year old Draco—the same Draco that he was now, with his hair slicked back, and an awkward smirk on his face that hadn't yet learned to master, "I wasn't so lucky. At least that's what I thought, then. Rodolphus and I met, he courted me and we quickly launched into an engagement. At the time, I was a little hesitant. But deep down, I knew. I knew that he was perfect for me in every way—he compliments the best and the worst of me."

"I guess it's just frustrating me because I don't know for sure yet." I responded, touched by her story. At the present, I thought she was trying to be encouraging of the relationship that was blooming with Flint. Showing me that, in due time I would learn to love him whole heartedly. It was a few moments later that I realized, that she was instead pushing that image of Draco and I, much like Narcissa and Lucius, as meant to be from the start.

"You will. One day, you'll wake up, and you'll know for sure." I could tell by the tone in her voice that she really wasn't trying to force a decision on me, "In the meantime, if your mother gets too much to handle, you know that your Grandmummy would only be too happy to intervene." She suggested.

"Bella!" I squealed, "You did not just suggest such!"

"Oh, I did. And you know that I'm right." She laughed lightly, "Don't let your Mother take you too far from what you really want—what you want for yourself. Remember your sister."

I was shocked that she was bringing up Emma. No one talked about her. It was as if she was permanently tabooed. Before I could question her further, Rodolphus re-entered the room, "Bella, sweetheart, our first assignment of the day is in the ready for us in the formal sitting room."

"Perfect," She stood up, smoothing out her long black skirt, "Follow me, Hayley. We need you, too."

I was no less than perplexed—I hadn't realized that we wouldn't be alone in these missions. Although, I supposed it made sense for us to be in a group. We could certainly be more persuasive that way.

Suddenly, I wasn't frustrated. My mind was reeling trying to figure everything out. The first was who I was partnered with—or perhaps, the group that I was working with. I wondered where I would be "stationed," to convince those to come with us…And finally, I imagined myself stealthily creeping around at night, in all black. With those eyeglasses the muggles wear to see in the dark.

I laughed when I saw who was sitting on Bella's green couch—and then couldn't help but smile in response to the smirk that greeted me. That smirk, too, turned into a smile of pure joy.


	11. Chapter 11

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Sorry for such a short post last time. It was torture just to get that much of the story written for all the times that I had to rewrite it. Hopefully this part will be easier. :)

"Why am I not surprised that he's my partner in all of this, Bella?" I laughed lightly, casually throwing myself down on the couch next to Draco.

"Well, it was natural." She responded, a light smile dancing across her lips. "The two of you are so in tuned with each other that we thought it would be unfortunate and silly to put you with another group. You're familiar with each other—each other's instincts, body language, that it would be most wasteful not to use that to our advantage."

She made it sound like she was only doing this because it was more beneficial to the situation. I knew Bella—I knew how much she loved Draco like a son, and I like a daughter. And I knew that she wanted nothing more than for me to truly be a part of her family.

I wasn't sure of anything at the moment, I felt emotionally numb towards Draco somehow, and the idea of Flint was agreeable. I wondered why I'd worried so much about it this morning in the shower.

"The two of you are going to be stationed in one of the biggest cities of evil in the united states—this place called Hollywood, in California. It's quite dodgy in some of the muggle parts—so we've cleared a nice inn that's in the heart of the wizarding town." Rodolphus said—all business. He handed the two of us, thick, manila envelopes, "In there you'll find all of the briefing you'll need. And all of your instructions for this mission. Remember that it's essential that you are as discreet as possible. We have no idea how the surrounding area is going to take to the news. And the last thing that the dark lord needs is more mudblood loving scum banding together."

I pulled out the top sheet of paper, skimming the script, "We're supposed to pretend to be a couple?" I inquired of Bella. Draco looked at the parchment over my shoulder, and let out a loud laugh.

"What? It's the most believable. Why else would a young man and young woman be on holiday?" She replied bashfully.

"Uh-huh," I nodded, "It's not going to be bad. Hold hands in public sometimes. Make up stories for your relationship for those who pry. It's not like we're asking you to snog, for merlin's sake!" She teased.

"You say that, Aunt, like kissing her is going to be a big problem for me." Draco teased.

"Draco Archibald Malfoy!" I hissed, "Don't be so ludicrous!"

"Have you two been naughty?" She asked, laughing.

"No—"

"Yes—"

I turned and looked at Draco, "No." I repeated, firmly.

Bellatrix and Rodolphus exchanged glances; he shrugged in response—his face telling her to not pry. And for once, unlike Bella, she didn't.

We were shortly interrupted by a knock on the door. A tiny house elf appeared, leading a few scarred men.

"Well, Draco darling, Hayley sweetheart, It looks like we're out of time today. You depart on Wednesday. Everything you need to know is in your hands." Rodolphus added with a tone of command.

"Sounds great." Draco replied.

Wednesday? Wasn't that a little early? It was Sunday. That gave us two and a half days to prepare for this? To understand what was truly going on?

"It was great talking today, Bella. I'll see you soon."

"Have fun, you two!" She replied as we exited the sitting room.

Draco and I walked in silence down the marble hallway.

"So, are you going to the Flint's cocktail party tonight?" He asked conversationally, as soon as we exited their mansion. I noticed that my car was pulled around in front of the entrance.

"Of course. Mother wouldn't have it any other way. I'm meant to be his arm candy for the evening." I replied bitterly. Not at the fact that I had to spend my evening with Marcus Flint, but instead at the idea that I was going to be paraded around like some kind of prize. I hated that mindset.

"That's a pity. I was going to ask whether or not you'd go with me." He replied.

"Really?" I asked, for a moment I was excited at the idea of going to a formal party with Draco. I could see it now—me, in a dazzling black and emerald cocktail dress. My curls, piled loose at my neck. Draco in all black, and with his hair slightly askew. We'd be the talk of the party. But it was just a flash, "I meant to say that suggestions like that need to be halted."

"What? What about last night?"

"I honestly don't know what to say about last night." I started, "However, what I know today is that I'm expected to marry Marcus Flint. Regardless of the charming witticisms you chose to woo me with."

"That can't really be what you want." He replied.

"How do I know that it's not?" I countered.

"I can't see you with him." He replied, "I can't see you loving Marcus Flint."

"Draco, please stop." I asked, closing my eyes, "This is what I have to do. I have to entertain the idea of the union. It would be a lot easier if you stopped interfering."

"Why should I do that?" He asked, "Give me one good reason why I should. Just say it, and I will. I'll stop fighting for us."

"Don't make this harder than it has to be." I shook my head, not looking at him, but instead at the ceiling.

"What do you want, then? Can you at least enlighten me with that?"

"I honestly don't know what I want." I shrugged, "All I think right now is that Flint is charming, and handsome—and my parents adore him." I had essentially repeated the same answer that I'd given Bella, "I, at least need to try this for them."

"That's fine. It's not going to last. There's no way." He shook his head, stepping away from me, "I'll be waiting for you when it's over." He finished coldly, walking off towards the sleek black sedan that sat, yards away from my own.

I stood there, completely defeated. I wanted to cry. I wanted to run to Draco, and tell him that of course things between Flint and I wouldn't work. And that I didn't have to try.

Yet, on the other hand. I wanted to try. Something in me—some cloud, some wave of something made me want to try this with Flint. And that's exactly what I was going to do.

I got into the car with my head high. I wasn't going to let Draco stop me from having a chance at happiness.

As soon as I got back home, I hurried to my room—to the comfort of my fluffy pillows and extravagantly soft bed. It was almost two o'clock. All I wanted to do was sleep. I was exhausted. Mentally. Physically. Merlin knows, emotionally. I was asleep before my head even hit the pillow.

I was awoken several hours later—or so I assumed by Blair. A tiny house elf with an abnormally large nose stood by her side. I think it's name was Dopey, or something of the like. It held a tray adorned with a small tea pot, a tea cup, and a few scones. He sat it quietly on my bedside table before bowing and disappearing as soon as he came.

"Mother asked me to wake you," She began, "It's nearing Five, and she wants to make sure that you drink some tea to calm your nerves before you start getting ready."

I sighed, "Are you going tonight, too?"

"Yes. As Victor Krum's escort." She giggled, pushing a strand of raven hair back from her face. I hadn't seen her in days—I was either always out, or she was with Krum. She'd even missed Pansy's ball over it.

I rolled my eyes, "I don't know what you see in him." I finished honestly.

"Well, he's just so…confident. In a very, very, sexy way. And hello? International Quidditch Superstar!"

"That's the only thing he's got going for him." She teasingly slapped my arm.

"That's not true. He's quite lovely. If you gave him a chance, you'd see that." She smiled blissfully.

"Uh-oh, Someone's in love." She started blushing.

"Oh, shut-up!" She hissed.

I sat up, looking around my room. The first thing I noticed was the black garment bag hanging on my closet door. Oh, drat. I'd meant to wake up in time to actually pick out my dress for once. Knowing mother, it was probably totally horrendous. I was parched, so I naturally reached for the tea cup on my bedside table.

I downed cup, after cup—all while listening to Blair talk about how delightful she found Victor Krum. And the more she got into her descriptions of how amazing she found him, the more I found myself excited to see Marcus this evening. The more excited that I was to spend time with him.

When it came time to get ready, I was actually enthused about it—for once.

I started by unzipping the black garment bag. Once open, it revealed an emerald green knee length dress with an asymmetrical neckline. The neckline had slight rouching over the bust, creating an almost Grecian look. The skirt looked to be very hugging over the hips. It was a very fine silk, with a small slight in the back. I found nothing objectionable about it.

I sat down at my vanity, unwinding my severely messed up bun. My hair sprung from it willingly, into a disgruntled mess. I slowly drug my fingers through the coils, it was soft and shiny—but overall in a frizzy mess. I guess it would have looked alright if I was someone like Granger. She didn't have the time to worry about things like the frizz level of her hair. She had to work twice as hard to be an insufferable know it all in an attempt to please the Pure bloods.

Her efforts were laughable.

Fortunately, I was privileged enough to be able to really pride myself on my appearance. And of course, had the money to pay for everything to make me the best me I could be. Better than perfect, yes, it's possible.

Not that I'm conceited or anything, I was just born into higher circumstance.

I toyed with the idea of wearing my hair close to its natural curl—a tighter ringlet, and then I also enjoyed the idea of medium sized waves. That was what I always did though, so I ended up settling on straightening it, into perfect locks. I let the ends curl ever so slightly, and when I was done (It took about fifteen minutes, not even magic can really fight frizz) I was left with glossy, shiny, beautiful hair.

I took my time with my makeup. Afterall, I was really in no rush. For something like this, I would have typically done a heavier eye and light lips. Tonight, I was all about the different.

I applied a light champagne color to my lids, using brown to define the crease. I used the lightest bit of gold to bring a pop of color on the center of my lids. I volumized my lashes, and darkened them so much it made me look like an old muggle film star. I finished with red lipstick. I usually wouldn't wear red lipstick with an emerald green dress…too "Christmas" for my tastes. But tonight…tonight it just felt right.

"Almost ready darling?" I turned to look at the door. My father stood there smiling. "Your mother wanted me to check in on you. And inform you that we would be leaving within the next ten minutes."

"I'll be ready without a problem," I replied.

As soon as he shut the door, I meandered over to the dress that hung from the closet. Slipping into it, I realized that it hugged my hips tighter than I thought it would. I didn't mind. I liked the elegance of it. I would have picked out something like this for myself, so I couldn't complain.

Due to the neckline, wearing a necklace was impossible. I dug in my jewelry box for a pair of diamond drop earrings, and a companionable bracelet.

I finished by searching through my shoes for the perfect pair—a usual feat for me in the getting ready process. I settled on a pair of Marc Jacobs peep toe black pumps.

When I got into the car, alongside my Mother, Father, and the fidgeting Blair, I couldn't help but realize that I was excited. I was excited to see his face. I was excited to see his face when he saw me. Hear his laugh. Hear him gently say my name. Feel him gently push the hair back from my face.

I didn't know what was going on with me.

I turned down Draco.

And now, I was giddy at the thought of spending the night on Marcus' arm.

Was I dreaming? Surely, I had to be.

The more I thought about whether or not I did have feelings for Draco, the more my head hurt. Almost as if I was getting an electric shock in my brain. And then I started feeling guilty…for thinking of someone who wasn't Marcus.


	12. Chapter 12

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Sorry it's been so long, folks. :) As a consolation prize—the longest update yet.

"Hayley," Flint breathed, walking over to the car, "You look positively ravishing." He held out his hand, allowing his arm to steady my wobbly feet exiting the muggle machine.

"Thank you, Dear." I smiled sweetly. I was right—I was happy to see him, somehow. And I was excited as he led me into the foyer of his home, right into the throng of mingling guests—excited; even though I realized I was being paraded as a trophy. More importantly, his trophy.

I always thought when this phase of my life would come to pass, that girlishly sighing in the arms of my suitor would be the most unbearable part.

But that night, in Flint's arms—I somehow managed to find it bearable.

"Excuse me!" Everyone turned at the sound of glass clinking. The Flints stood three steps up on their elaborate staircase—high enough for even the people in the farthest corners of the room to see, "We would like to make a toast."

From here, Mister Flint took over, "Thank you all for coming. Let us all rejoice the happiness we have come to face recently."

There was a murmur of misunderstandings, "Our recent victory—the death of Albus Dumbledore at the hands of Severus Snape!" People lightly clapped, a few more excitedly.

"To the upper hand we're waging in this war!" He added with vibrato, "Let's remember all of those we've lost—those we've lost as they fought the good war."

"But life goes on," Kristen interjected with a smile, "So let's end this toast—although I promised I wouldn't say anything—let's end this toast to a wedding in our future!" She excitedly babbled. The room clapped, and my cheeks blazoned as those turned to find the trophy that adorned Marcus' arm.

I didn't ever think I could possibly be comfortable in a situation like this. Receiving so much attention as the perfect soon to be wife of a man that I most certainly was more powerful than. Yet, in this moment—it felt right. I giddily saw myself in white, saw the wedding that was to come. And I wasn't even the slightest bit appalled. I was in bliss.

Or at least that is until a pair of piercing blue eyes caught mine from across the room. Eyes are a curious thing. Some believe that we can see into the soul of a person when we look into the deepest depths of a person's eyes.

Looking at Draco then, all I saw was jealousy and confusion, masked by rage. The deepest emotion that swam in his eyes (his blue eyes, not unlike the sea) was sorrow.

And there was a part of me; a part that felt as if it had been locked up that felt a pang of something when I looked at him.

"Darling, would you like another?" I snapped out of my reverie, turning to Flint holding a martini. Whatever thought I had been coming to, abruptly disappeared like a mirage. And I didn't think about it for the rest of the night.

"_I still like the one from before," Mother cooed._

_I froze, my outstretched hands looming back towards my sides, "Mother!" I hissed, "I can't wear that one."_

"_Why not? It's a gorgeous dress!"_

"_You would think so; seeing as you chose it." I rebuked, "However, that's not what this is about. It's about the situation. I can't wear that dress. Surely you can see that."_

_She huffed, "I suppose your point is valid."_

_I ignored her, and continued searching through the store. And then, before I knew it—or even realized it. I found the dress. I grabbed it, and excitedly ushered Mum, Blair and Emma towards the fitting rooms._

_The fitting room attendant quickly helped me into the dress, and I hurried to the waiting area—it was the only area that had mirrors._

_As soon as I saw my reflection—a tear came to my eye. _

_It was _the_ dress._

_With a sweetheart neckline—peeking down to reveal the slightest hint of lace, the bodice came down in a basque waist. The skirt was made of silk organza, elaborately falling around my legs. _

"_It's beautiful, Hayley." My mother looked like she was on the verge of tears as well, "I—" She rubbed at her cheek, "I—" She broke off again, "I'm so happy for you. And I'm sorry for what I tried to do."_

I wanted the dream to go farther—to find out what she was sorry for trying to do. But at that moment I was awoken by a knock on my door. I sat upright, clutching my blankets to my chest—only too aware of the visitors I'd received as of late.

I let out a sigh of relief as I recognized Blair coming into my room.

"Hey—sorry to wake you; but Narcissa and Draco are downstairs."

"What?" I hissed, "Whatever for?"

"Narcissa didn't say much, but whatever it is has to do with your trip for Wednesday."

All I could think was Draco, Draco, _Draco_. I could feel my heart fluttering like crazy. I continued pushing the hair back from my face—looking up to see a house elf push past Blair with a tray. I had accustomed to receiving tea so regularly, that I happily took the cup from the disgusting creature and slowly sipped the steaming tea.

"I'll be down in a moment." I said, standing up, tea cup in hand and stretching. I wouldn't have time to shower, so I hurried over to my vanity, using magic to make my appearance manageable. I kept my hair smooth, pulling most of it back from my face. I only applied enough makeup to look presentable. I then hurried into my closet, selecting a pair of tight fitting dark jeans and a black tiered ruffle top, with tiny sleeves. I then slid my feet into a pair of red flats, that had the some rouching over the toes. I picked up a pair of onyx studs, and threaded them through my ears.

I finished by a last minute makeup change—swiping dark red lip stain over my lips.

"Ah, Here she is at last." Draco remarked when I entered the room, "It took you long enough." I was surprised in my reaction—coldness to his words.

I raised an eyebrow, my metaphorical feathers had been ruffled. "Don't pretend as if you get ready in a shorter span of time than I do."

He laughed—but the laugh wasn't warm at all. It was sharp and icy. "I wouldn't wager that. Things have changed, Bennett." He replied.

"Hush, children." Narcissa interjected, rolling her eyes. "Draco and I are going shopping today for clothes for your," she paused, "trip." She finished shortly, "Would you care to join us?"

Knowing that I didn't have the slightest choice in the matter, I dutifully agreed and shortly set off in a town car with Draco and Narcissa, speeding towards the leaky cauldron.

"Bellatrix and I were discussing your wardrobes this morning. We don't want the locals to automatically assume that you're a white hat. And let's face it, with the amount of black and red the two of you wear—it's going to be fairly obvious."

I surveyed my outfit, completely outraged at her suggestion. And the more I thought about it, the more I realized that she was right.

I sighed in defeat, "So this means I'll be wearing pink?" I acted disgusted, but I was secretly thrilled. It wasn't like it was inappropriate for a pureblood woman to wear pink—it was just one of those things that had a certain situation that called for it.

"I'm afraid so, darling."

I hid my pleasure, "I suppose if it's for a good cause, I can manage."

She lightly chatted the rest of the drive about the stores that we'd frequent, and the image that she has in mind for both of us. I didn't pay any attention. I just stared at the countryside, rolling beneath us. I felt let I was letting something go. Something that I couldn't put my finger on. Something that the more I tried to figure out, the more my head swam with confusion.

I was thankful when Narcissa announced that we had arrived at our destination, and even more thankful to get out of such a small, confined space with Draco. Something about sitting so close to him was making me oddly uncomfortable. And from the look on his face, I couldn't help but see that he clearly returned those feelings. Only, I couldn't assume that he didn't have an explanation for his feelings.

Instead, I moved my thoughts to Flint. I was smiling to myself at the memory of _his_ smile last night. That made everything better.

We first stopped at a new shop that had just opened—a tall brunette girl was the only shop attendant, and she hovered over a rack of shoes, straightening them with an unknown purpose.

I browsed the racks of women's clothes alongside Narcissa. I automatically reached for a black shirt—all it took was a disapproving glance from Narcissa to make me pretend as if I'd been headed for a pale blue cardigan all along. It felt strange—selecting an ivory tunic here, a yellow dress there, and so forth. Actually trying on the garments, and seeing myself in an array of pastels? Now that was the weirdest part.

Or at least, I thought it was until I actually began purchasing them.

At the next store, Narcissa had selected casual polo's and khakis for us both. The shirt that she had selected for me was in a pale pink shade, whereas Draco's was a pale blue. How gender generic; I thought as I made my way to the fitting rooms. It was hard to hide the excitement of wearing pink, though. I traded my black shirt, and dark jeans for the light khakis and the epitome of a good girl shirt. Cursing the shop for not having mirrors in its dressing room, I exited-seeing out of the fitting rooms, and seeing Draco casually standing there in his costume, I couldn't help but snicker.

He turned to me, raising an eyebrow, "Yeah?" He asked, "Well you don't look any better."

I scoffed, pushing past him and staring into the long mirror that faced us.

"Merlin's beard," I hissed, "I look like Granger."

"You're still beautiful." He sincerely offered. Usually something like that would have made me blush—knocking me off my feet, in the process. It was that and the combination of how the pale blue of his shirt perfectly complimented his blue eyes. That would have made me weak in the knees.

But this…it wasn't like that at all. Instead of wooing me, his words uncomfortably hung in the air. I stood, staring at him completely unable to comprehend any of my thoughts. It was like something—or someone didn't want me to.

"Well, you know what I mean," He began explaining. He was flustered, I could tell by the way that he shoved his hands into his pockets; innocently and ever so awkwardly not looking at me. "Just that it doesn't look bad."

I looked away from him—staring at my feet. "I'm uh," I cleared my throat. "I'm going to go change."

I hurried back to my fitting room, shutting the door and slumping against it. My head ached. I rubbed my temples, thinking about it all. Things were awkward still between Draco and I because of how I'd left seven years ago. That was all it was. We had been confused the last few days, that was undeniable. But it didn't mean that we felt anything for one another. He wasn't feeling anything for me—and I most certainly wasn't feeling anything for him because I was in love with Marcus Flint, right? Marcus Flint whom I was essentially engaged to. Whom I would be planning the rest of my life with over the course of the next few months. I liked the idea of that—more than liked, I was thrilled at the idea of such a handsome, strong man being my companion for the rest of my days.

That's what my head was telling me. My head found ways to rationalize it all. But my heart?

My heart pained at the idea. And I had no idea why. I concentrated, trying to figure out what my heart was telling me. It only worsened my steadily growing headache. It was like there was a brick wall—no a wall out of pure steel around the answer. And I didn't have the strength to fight it.

Instead, I hurried through shopping. After barely two hours, I was more than pleased to arrive outside of the floo powder gates—this would take much less time to return to our homes.

"Hayley, Darling. My stylist is coming over to do something with your hair styles. You don't have engagements this evening, do you?"

"No," I grudgingly but honestly replied. Grandmummy always said that lying was one of the most unbecoming traits a woman could possess, "I suppose that will be just fine." I watched them step into the grate, first Narcissa, then Draco. I debated on whether or not I should run.

I shook my head—not worrying about if anyone who saw. No one who mattered was nearby. I was so overwhelmed, so confused. My head felt naught but muddled.

I just wanted to lay down somewhere peaceful—perhaps my bathtub, or by (not in) the beautiful fountain in our backyard.

Instead? I dutifully followed them, seconds later through the grate, throwing ash to my feet and clearly calling, "Malfoy Manor!"

"It took you long enough to get here," Draco huffed. "You were probably off—"

"Draco Archibald. Don't be testy with me."

Narcissa laughed, rubbing her temples, "After spending the day with you I haven't the slightest idea how you're going to last a day together in America. Let alone two weeks."

"Two weeks?" We both thundered.

"Didn't you read the prompt?" She inquired. I wanted to smack myself in the forehead—I hadn't even taken it out of it's funny brown envelope. When had I actually had time, though? I was—and had been busy. It's not easy work being a pureblood princess; high in society, "I'm taking the stunned silence as a no." She lightly laughed.

"I would—I just haven't exactly had the time." I replied. "Between the Flint's party last night, and today, I haven't had an ounce of free time."

"Oh, it's quite alright—I understand perfectly, Dear."

"Wait. Two weeks? As in fourteen whole days?" Draco dumbly asked. I swear! And some people thought I was the more airheaded one.

"The last time I checked, the duration of a week was seven days. If you do basic arithmetic you'll find that two weeks would total to fourteen days. So yes, Draco. We'll be in America…together…for fourteen whole days." The look that crossed his face was a mixture of disbelief and dread, "Don't look so excited. I hardly can say that it's an enjoyment for me as well."

Narcissa bewilderedly looked between the two of us, "What's going on? Just three days ago—you two were completely inseparable. And now…well, dare I say it? Now you can barely be in a room together."

"It's nothing." Draco responded, "We're just not the same as we used to be."

"That was a fast change," She chastised, "And sorry to say this—actually, I'm not—you're going to have to put these aversions aside. The task is the most important thing right now. Without a strong army, we have no defense. No offense."

It offended me that she assumed that I wouldn't focus at the task at hand, anyway. Regardless of Draco. And my current aggravated feelings for him.

At that moment, amidst the awkward tension in the room a house elf entered accompanied by a thin, petite red headed woman. "Bridgette!" Narcissa enthusiastically greeted her, "I guess we better get started!" I could tell Narcissa loved a good scalp massage.

She walked over to me, her face scrunched in determination, "Well this one needs to go lighter—" She picked up a lock of my hair. Did this woman not have any respect to a person's personal space? It was probably because she was American. I doubted her name was really Bridgette in the first place. "She looks…well, _evil_ with it so dark."

"With the clothes, is it really necessary for me to change my hair?" I asked. I didn't want to touch my hair with any kind of coloring potion! It was beautiful the way that it was.

"Well, it's just so distinctive on you—the mixture of the dark hair, the pale skin, the red lip stain; it's a recipe for story book evil."

I scoffed, crossing my arms haughtily. After the Draco comment and this, my temper was about to snap. And it's never appropriate for a woman's temper to snap in public. "Well what do you suppose I do to look like the perfect little white hat? I refuse to go blonde. And I'm not becoming a red head, either."

"But blonde is the spitting image of good—" She protested. I looked at Draco and laughed.

"Then Draco is more than enough blonde "goodness" for the two of us," I dramatically used air quotes, "I shouldn't have to use a potion to kill my brain cells to be able to competently serve the dark lord." I realized I was taking out my frustration, my constant confused state, and my abnormally large headache at the wrong people. Sometimes we all snap. I'm only human after all, "What all do you have planned for me?"

"Well, we need to lighten your hair. No offense but you look like a corpse." She shrugged unapologetically, "And maybe you could use a tanning potion lotion? Just enough color to make you look less dead."

Narcissa gave me a warning look, Ignoring 'Bridgette' I turned to her, "I'm sorry—you wouldn't happen to have anything for a headache?" I massaged my temples.

She nodded, "Bridgette, if you want to go upstairs and set up—that'd be great. Draco; you too! She can go ahead and get started. And if you, Hayley—just come with me and we'll grab something for that headache of yours."

I followed her out of the room, and into the little sitting room, she snapped her fingers twice, and a house elf appeared.

"Miss Bennett needs something for headache," She ordered, "See to it promptly." She gestured for me to sit down, and I did so.

"Is everything alright, dear?" I pursed my lips, unsure of how to answer.

"It's just so overwhelming being back, and all of the changes that my life has begun to morph itself with. I feel like I'm running in hundreds of different directions. And trying to keep up with it all is maddening." I slumped back into the sofa. Not caring that I wasn't showing picture perfect posture. Not caring that I wasn't being even remotely ladylike. A part of me found it funny that the only woman I couldn't open up to, or be honest with in my life was my mother.

"What do you want for yourself?" She asked, "Because that's all that matters."

"I honestly am not sure. I thought I'd have more time to figure this out."

At that, the house elf entered with a cup of tea. I felt like that was all I was drinking anymore. I eagerly took the cup, expecting that very familiar and bizarre herb. But that's not what I got. Instead it tasted like tea mixed with headache remedy.

"Oh dear." She murmured, "I was afraid this was going to happen again."


	13. Chapter 13

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

For those of you whom care to know, the song that she's listening to at the end is of course—"The Ice Is Getting Thinner," –Death Cab For Cutie.

.*.*.

"You were afraid what was going to happen?" I raised my brows, satisfied with the way my headache was fading to slow ebbs here and there.

"I don't know much," she hurriedly explained, keeping her voice low, "A few years ago, children began questioning the way that society carried itself out. Children grew rebellious to the dark lord—having never seen him in power since their infancy, and they went soft. Dating mudblood lovers, and turning into that themselves. We had to keep our children grounded, so parents began implementing methods to _sway_ their decisions." She said this lightly, as if it were no big deal, "Some were successful, and some weren't. I can't give you a firsthand account of the situation, seeing as Draco was still a child when this happened.

"Your mother and father started this campaign with Emma the day that she came home and told them she wanted to marry the Weasley boy," She sighed, "I don't know why they'd do that with you."

I thought about it for a moment, "I'm not in love with a muggle, or a mudblood, or any kind of impure union. She has no reason to interfere with anything."

"I know," She answered, "I can't think of a reason why they'd do this. And maybe they aren't."

I saw the tea cup in my hand, and then it all clicked, "No." I put the tea cup on the counter. She'd been spiking my tea with love potion, or something, "I don't know why they're doing it but I know my mother. She has to be in control."

"You don't know that for sure. Maybe you should talk to Emma about all of this?"

I sighed, "I haven't even heard from Emma in…" I tried to mentally calculate it all. "Since I left for Grand Mummy's—she had just turned seventeen. So, it's been six years. I don't even know where she is."

"She and I aren't as close as we used to be, I'm sorry that I can't give you any more information." She apologetically responded, "We need to get upstairs, though. Time is slowing down."

I wanted to ask her what had happened to make them 'not as close as they used to be.' It just seemed as if that was happening to everyone. I had been away for six—nearly seven years, and everything was different. It was almost as if it were a completely different world.

I didn't pry any further, I could tell by her ending resolution that the conversation was over.

I needed to think about what all this information meant. I couldn't ask Bella, she wasn't around for that spurt of rebelliousness, either.

I walked upstairs, barely noticing that Draco was in the room and sat down at the chair before the mirror. What had I done to make Mum so suspicious of my ability to properly make decisions for myself?

I had never expressed interest in any boy—well, except for Draco.

Why would Draco be a threat to my future? That's the part that didn't make sense.

The part that I couldn't figure out.

I looked up, into the mirror to view my awkward appearance. Sections of my hair were wrapped in hair potion, and metallic material. And I saw Draco. He stared at me curiously, his hair cut a little different, and not slicked back from his face. He didn't look too drastically different, but then again he hadn't been deemed _classic storybook evil_.

When I met his eyes, I felt different than I had about him all day. I was still confused, but (thanks to the tea) my head didn't hurt when I pondered why I was so confused.

I wanted to say that it was because I was falling in love with him (Oh, the hilarity!) but that couldn't be it.

I was with another man, who made me happy enough to keep me from alternatives.

So, instead I just decided it was because I wasn't annoyed at him. It wasn't his fault that we were going to be stuck together for the next two weeks. And somehow, just somehow we'd make it work out.

.*.*.

When I got home, I was sporting caramel colored highlights and a more tanned complexion. I somehow found myself adjusting well to both. I had color in my face, my hair had some warmth to it. While I'd admit this made me look perilously closer to Granger, I still thought that this change would be bearable.

"Merlin's beard! What on earth did you do to yourself?" My mother asked, bombarding me as soon as I entered the foyer. She stood with a perfectly manicured hand on her hip, gazing at me incredulously.

"I needed to blend in better. The wizards in the area I'm going to be in, need to trust me. If I look evil, and they know that I'm british—they'll figure things out. It's the only way to guarantee that we'll get the job done correctly, mother."

'"I still don't like the idea of this. Especially since you're going alone—wait a minute. You just said, 'we'? Whom are you going with?"

"Draco." I responded easily.

"Draco?" She looked horrified, "Draco Malfoy?" She sat down on the sofa in our foyer, "You have been assigned a mission in which you're being accompanied by Draco Malfoy?"

"I really don't understand why you had to repeat that to yourself three times. But yes, mother, I am accompanying Draco Malfoy on this task for the dark lord." I replied flatly.

"That is going to make me worry for you." She looked sad.

"Mother, don't be ridiculous. Draco and I aren't going to do anything." The expression on her face slid from one of sorrow to one of shock, and offense. Apparently, she hadn't even thought about the fact that we were going to spend to lonely weeks by ourselves.

"That's not was I was concerned about. The dark lord is still upset with Lucius for falling to obtain a powerful weapon a year ago—he was defeated by Harry Potter. Draco recently just fulfilled a mission by the dark lord—to kill Albus Dumbledore." I froze, unsure of how I was feeling. I didn't know any of that—and Pureblood wizards gossip. I'd only been home for about three weeks, but I still would have believed I would have heard something like that.

On one hand, it didn't faze me whatsoever that Draco had killed someone. We were in the middle of a war. Casualties were something that was unavoidable. For someone I know to be at the hands of that, was just one person down we had to fight against.

On the other hand, I wanted to cry. Draco had taken someone's life. Someone who deserved every chance they got at that life. To experience things—even though Albus Dumbledore had been through his fair share of experience. It wasn't Draco's place to take that away from him.

And for the first time in my life, the second hand felt heavier than my first.

"Any mission that the Dark Lord sends Draco on—is going to be difficult." My Mother darkly responded, "And it will most certainly be life threatening."

"We're just recruiting, Mother. You are being entirely too histrionic." I responded. Running a hand absentmindedly through my hair, "The worst thing that could possibly happen is Draco deciding to subject me to the torture of his hair products."

"Don't make this light hearted. I have every reason to worry." She hissed.

I fought the urge to roll my eyes at her, "You don't have a single reason to worry," I was growing tired of this conversation, "But, it's late—and I have a big day ahead of myself tomorrow."

"I'm glad to see that you're starting to take your relationship with Marcus seriously, dear." She responded, gazing at me fondly.

"What? What about Marcus? I was referring to the packing, and preparation to leave early Wednesday morning." I replied honestly.

"You're having brunch with him tomorrow the ivy!" She looked at me with a perplexed expression, "And here I thought you were excited for once. But, go to bed—I'll send up a house elf with some tea to help relax you."

"Fine," I huffed, like so often today, I was aggravated. And I didn't care. I wanted to go upstairs, crawl into my bed, and do something soothing—in this case, it was drinking tea.

Upon entering my room, I tossed my bags into my closet and quickly changed into pajamas. I felt sweet relief as my feet came out of my shoes, kissing the soft carpet beneath me. I was tired, emotionally and physically that I wanted to just lay down there and not get up again. No matter how tempting that was, I knew that my bed was that much more comfortable. I dissolved into the mattress, wondering about things I had pushed from the depths of my mind all day.

How were Draco and I going to survive alone in America? Not because Americans are necessarily vicious, but because we literally couldn't handle being in the same room together. I sighed, putting on some music with the flick of my wand. I relaxed into the low, opening strums of one of my favorite melancholy songs.

It made me want to cry for Draco. How does one go on after killing an innocent person? I still wasn't sure whether to feel sorry for him, or whether I was terrified of what he'd done.

I didn't have to think about it for that much longer, soon a house elf entered, interrupting my thoughts as he (or she?) held a cup of tea out in front of himself (or herself?)

I took the cup without thinking, drinking it absentmindedly until I remembered my suspicions. With shock, and horror I then realized that I had finished the cup.

And that's when I really started to cry.

. * . *.

I woke the next morning not when I wanted to—but when I received a wake up call from one of those blundering idiot house elves. I snapped at it for several minutes before getting out of bed and beginning to get ready for, "Mister Flint!"

I left my hair down—somehow finding the change pleasing to see. I used my wand to make the curls perfect, and voluptuous. I kept my makeup natural—light and dewy in ways that I never usually allowed. I highlighted my cheeks with bronzer and a bit of blush, and swept a gold colored shadow over my lids. I finished the look with a light pink lip gloss.

When I was shuffling through my closet, I picked something that was hanging in the back of my closet—the tags still attached. It was a white, knee length dress with a sweet heart neckline and a crossing empire waist. I had always turned it away because it was white—it looked too innocent to accurately match my image. I had always intended to alter its color, but never had found the desire to do so.

Today, it felt perfect. I didn't feel like dressing in dark colors—knowing that it would look to harsh compared to my changed appearance.

I searched through my jewelry box, looking for something that wasn't storybook evil.

I found a pair of canary diamond earrings that I had received as a gift, and used to wear in France quite fondly—there was a simple bracelet that matched them. I eagerly put them on—finding a pair of shoes that I found acceptable for the outfit, and headed to meet the "Mister Flint," the house elves had alerted me was waiting in my foyer fifteen minutes ago.

I walked down the stairs slowly, resisting the urge to giggle—I felt like I was wearing a costume.

"You look different," He greeted me with, "But not in a bad way."

He offered me his hand, and I greedily took it. I nearly melted at his touch. I wish he hadn't noticed, but he did.

He probably took that, and the way that I sunk into his side in the car as encouragement to say what he did to me over brunch.

"We need to talk, darling." He began.

"Whatever about?" I asked sweetly.

"Draco," He answered honestly, "I trust you, but I don't trust him. And you're going to be alone with him for two weeks." He finished as if that said it all.

"Yes?"

"Well, I'm almost positive that he's going to…well, You know."

"I know?" I played dumb so well, "I know what, Marcus?"

"That he'll try something most unbecoming." He admitted, his cheeks reddening.

"Oh, so you automatically assume that my virtue is in danger because I'm spending two weeks overseas with Draco Malfoy?" I questioned flatly.

"Yes, that's precisely it." He nodded, finally looking up at me, "I care a lot for you. And when you return, I plan on continuing to lead our relationship down towards the path of engagement. I'm ready to take this seriously. And I think you are too."

I sighed—he took that as a good sign. But it wasn't.

It was a sigh of distress for the life I had to look forward to after living a lie for two weeks in America.

And that's when I realized I wasn't fawning over Flint. I was doing exactly the opposite, actually. Even if occasionally I was stimulated or affected by his touch or his smile (I still couldn't get over the change there—no more buck teeth for egg headed Flint)!

"Do you agree to that?"

I swallowed hard, "If I didn't, well, I'd hardly be sitting here."


	14. Chapter 14

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

I have this funny habit of not saving something until I'm done with it. Because of that, I've lost this twice. The first time I didn't care so much, I just had maybe 2-3 sentences. The second time? I had over 2,000 words. I guess I've finally learned my lesson. Sorry this update took so long to get to you! :)

.*.*.

"Good," He looked smug, grabbing his flute of orange juice with a pristine air, "I'm glad that you've decided after all." I greatly enjoyed the way that he made it sound like I had chosen him. And by greatly enjoyed, I mean not at all.

Because when it came down to it, I still wasn't sure.

"Oh no," He looked worried, "Is everything alright? It looks like I've lost you."

I had to give Flint credit. He wasn't nearly as oblivious as I sometimes pretended he was. It was hard to comprehend that someone like him was capable of intelligent thought. I mentally scolded myself—that assumption was rather harsh.

He had just asked me that I start thinking of our future—assuming that I've made a conscious decision of that road. I couldn't lie to him at this point.

So for the first time, in quite a long time I was honest with Marcus Flint.

"It's a little fast." I replied.

"What do you mean?"

"This." I gestured towards the two of us, sitting at that table, "I've been home for around a month. And in that time, I'm already tied to the person I'm going to pursue a life with? Not that I find you objectionable, just that when I pictured it all when I was younger, I saw a slow courting process before the word engagement was even mentioned."

"I believe that kind of set up is much to untraditional for the society that we exist within." He remarked with a laugh. Unfortunately, He was right. That was the only downfall to the life that I led. The society. The rights and passages kept from the stone age. Okay, so in actuality the Victorian age, but living it in the nineteen nineties; I hardly could tell a difference between the two.

"I know," I replied truthfully, "I really do know that. But I feel like I don't even get an option to learn how I feel. To grow with those feelings."

He shrugged, "My parents always told me that I'd have the rest of my life to fall in love with the woman I'd spend forever with."

I sighed, putting my head into my hands. I was sitting most unladylike, but I hardly even cared. It was like this—Hermione Granger could marry whomever she wanted. And from what I'd heard she'd probably end up spending her forever with that Weasley boy. I'm not saying that I wanted to marry a Weasley (stupid mudblood lovers) it's just not fair that she gets to chose with her heart—when I'm superior to her in every single way.

"I know that it's frustrating, Hayley. Believe me I do." Flint took a deep breath, "I've spent so much time forcing the future on you. When what I should have been doing is trying to woo you in the present.

"It escaped me that you haven't been around the last six—seven years to see how things have changed; To see how people have grown—the directions that their lives have taken. I forget that you haven't seen me evolve, and nor have I you. I'm sorry for rushing things. Let's start over. Let's spend the day together. And let's get to know each other."

I looked at him incredulously.

I prided myself on being able to read people well. To see deep into their soul and know exactly what they were capable of. I hadn't even bothered to consider what Flint was capable of.

It was amazing what you could learn from a person when you were honest with them.

"There you go, staring off into space again. It's funny how often you do that."

"Excuse me?" I replied, scrunching my brows together. I hardly felt this to be an accurate description of what I was like at all.

"The younger version of you that I knew so much better than I do this version used to stare off into space all the time. I remember all the times that I'd catch Draco and you at the base of the Malfoy's garden—right by the pond. And you'd just be sitting there. Not talking, barely even looking at each other. Staring completely off into space. It was like you were having a conversation with yourselves, but the whole world at the same time without even speaking."

I knew exactly what he was recalling—and I could see it all. I could see Draco, his cheeks reddened, his hair mused from a day of flying in the backyard. His cheeks were tinged with sunburn, and he lay casually spread out in the grass. I sat, with my legs tucked into my chest, and my head upon my knees just staring out at the sunset. My hair idly flicked around my face from the wind. I didn't say anything, and neither did Draco.

And suddenly, remembering what had occurred the last time I'd visited that magical spot, I abruptly needed to change the subject, "I just love the way that their garden looks. With all of the roses, and the ivy. And that beautiful pond."

"The Malfoy's do have an exquisite garden. And those peacocks? That's just outrageous."

I laughed, I had forgotten about the peacocks. After years of chasing them around the gardens, they'd gotten into the habit of staying as far from me as possible, "It is a little flamboyant, but those peacocks are Lucuis' babies. In some ways, he fancies them more than he does Draco." I teased.

That caused Flint to laugh, too. His laugh was loud, clear, and melodious. It was a glorious sound, and a part of me enjoyed the fact that I had been the causing factor of such enchanted laughter.

"I'm only just slightly teasing." I smiled as I responded.

"That was almost a smirk," He replied—of course with a smirk.

"It was not!" I was outraged that he would suggest such.

"It was too! Just wait until I tell Draco." He laughed.

"Draco shan't even care about hearing such." He looked at me strangely.

"What ever do you mean?"

"Draco and I are…Well," I thought of how best to phrase the situation without being completely honest and losing any trust I had from him. "Well let's just say that six and a half years of not seeing each other, or hearing from each other, kind of tore anything that we had resembling a friendship apart."

He looked surprised to hear this, "Is that so? And why is that?"

I shrugged. I honestly had no idea where to begin with Draco. And the last person that I expected to talk about it with was Flint. "I'm not sure. It's just hard to spend so much time apart from a person, and then be thrust suddenly back into their lives." I sighed thoughtfully, "We didn't keep in touch at all."

"You didn't stay in touch with anyone." He replied, "At least no one that I know of."

"I kept in touch with Pansy."

"Really? Why didn't she say something? She's not exactly known for keeping things quiet."

"I told her that if she did, I'd confess to the world all of her darkest secrets. And after a while, not telling anyone about my correspondence wasn't as big of a deal."

"You know, I don't even know why you left."

"If we're going to be honest, I don't know that anyone knows the story of why I left."

"Why?"

"With everything that was going on at home? MY sister ran away with a Weasley. Emma ran off with Charlie, like she had a future with him. Mum and Father were devastated. They decided to vacation on Isle Elladora for a few months; during which I was to stay in france with my Grandmummy. When time came for school to start, my parents were still vacationing. My grandmother decided that Hogwarts wasn't a good school. So I started willingly, at beauxbatons. After my first year there, france had become my home."

"What made you decide that you wanted to come back here?" He inquired.

"Truth be told—I didn't want to return to England. I never intended to or planned to come back here. My life is France. My life here had been deserted and broken. It's been maddening to try and fix all of the wrongs that I made in leaving."

"Are you talking about Draco again?"

"Not entirely," I answered honestly, "I feel like a stranger to everyone—even my parents. I feel so out of place here."

"That's hardly true. You're not a stranger to anyone. We know you. Even if we haven't seen you turn into the person that you are, we know who you are at the roots."

"That's strangely; quite kind of you." He laughed.

"So what's so different about the new Hayley that we don't know?" He teased me casually, "She still plays quidditch. She still feels the most peaceful sitting in a garden. She still nervously tugs on the ends of her hair." I immediately dropped my hands into my lap.

"I guess not nearly as much as I thought."

. * . * .

Marcus and I spent the entire afternoon together; sharing various stories that had passed during our lives that we had not bared witness to. By the evening, sitting on my back porch with Marcus I felt so more at ease about where my heart really was—or whom it even belonged to.

Marcus was charming, he was sweet, polite and caring. He was handsome and brave. He had a laugh that could make the heavens envious, and a smile to rival it.

I was slowly becoming content with the where I knew the future was taking us.

"I'm sorry about all the assumptions I made earlier. I didn't think about how hard this all must be for you." He started, as we were saying goodbye, "It was wrong of me. Instead, I'd like to redo this. When you're gone for the next two weeks—please don't forget about me; or about today, or any of the things that we've talked about. Don't forget about the place that we're beginning to fit more naturally into." He pulled a small satin box out of his pocket, "And if you need to. Use this as a reminder of the place that I want us to be at. Not tomorrow, not next week. But when you're ready for us to be there." And he opened the box, revealing an engagement ring. It was quite ornate, a large emerald shone in the middle—surrounded in scalloped diamonds. I could tell that the ring itself was ancient—probably a family heirloom.

"It's beautiful," I breathed, caressing the soft satin of the box. It was the perfect ring for a pureblood princess. The only problem that was when I imagined this day, I had pictured something new. Something that I would get a chance at turning into the ring of an extraordinary marriage. The ring of newer times. A clean, square cut diamond surrounded by smaller diamonds—all clear.

"It's a family heirloom. It was my great grandmother's ring."

"Thank you," I replied. I knew what was going to happen next. I didn't fight it, either.

And the strangest thing? Kissing Marcus Flint wasn't nearly as weird as I thought it was going to be.

. * . * .

I hurried inside, holding the box in my hands tightly, unsure of what to do with it. I knew that I did not want my mother to find it—she would insist that I wore it. Perhaps when I returned, but wearing it at the present seemed hardly appropriate.

I was tired enough to sleep, but I hadn't even read over the instructions for the trip that I was about to embark on. So reluctantly I sank into the chair at my desk, tearing into the manila envelope.

The first thing I read didn't please me.

I was to be ready for pick up at six thirty, promptly. Not a minute earlier, not a minute later.

I frowned. That was not good. I was notorious for being five minutes late. And that was so early.

I continued reading, to discover that we weren't so much as apparating to this wizarding village. No, we were flying—a stupid muggle aircraft creation. It was a metal cylinder, with strange things attached to the sides. I only knew that it was a way to kill muggles in mass numbers. The flight would take twenty hours to complete. We would arrive at our destination at five o'clock in the morning our time! (Or flight departed at Nine) It would be nine o'clock at night there.

I thought after hearing that I was going to be stuck on a stupid muggle contraption for twenty hours with only the company of Draco Malfoy, it couldn't get worse. I still had no idea where I stood with him.

The packet went on to describe our rooming situation. I assumed that we'd have a double. Only, that would look too suspicious. Because any young couple vacationing in another country would have a single room.

Meaning, I was expected to share a bed with Draco.

I was beginning to think Narcissa had been right. We could hardly be in the room with each other. We were either at each other's throats, or pretending that we were star cross'd lovers. Neither of us were going to survive this trip, that was for sure. Bellatrix had made a poor choice in pairing us up for this task.

I read the rest of the pamphlet with a foul mood. She stressed the importance of not blowing our cover. Mudblood lovers were growing aware of the threat the we posed to their silly views of how society might function. If they even suspected that we were working for who we are, then there's no way that we could be successful.

After skimming the last page, I crawled into bed. I was worried about how I'd get to sleep, so I automatically summoned a house elf requesting a wakeup call for the morning, and a cup of sleep tea.

The tea came to me tasting like regular sleeping potion mixed with tea, so I drank it without any hesitation. And it did exactly what it was supposed to. I fell to sleep almost instantly.

Though in hindsight, I would have preferred to not have dreams that I was running away to America to elope with Draco.


	15. Chapter 15

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

. * . * .

Waking up at five in the morning was hardly pleasant. I took this out (possibly in an unnecessary amount) on the house elf that woke me up. They were pestering little buggers. I knew that I had requested to be awoken at promptly five, but couldn't they give me five more minutes?

When I asked the house elf looked baffled, "But misses! Misses asked Dopey to wake her at five! Dopey did as misses asked!"

I sighed, "Fine! Fine! I'm getting up!"

"I'm not leaving until misses does!" The house elf dared to cop and attitude with me. I sighed, she and I both knew I wasn't going to punish her for it.

"You're insufferable."

"Thank you," The house elf squeaked, beaming proudly. I had a strange feeling I wasn't doing this as I should be.

I kicked my blankets off my body, finding strength to climb out of bed. I immediately jumped into the shower, letting the steamy water loosen the knots in my back, trying to make my body awaken even though the sun hadn't even begun to ascend the sky. I looked forward to the breakfast that would be awaiting me when I was finished.

I started wondering what I would wear today—something comfortable for I was certain that this muggle aircraft thing would be pure torture. Sitting still for that long? Ugh. I'd rather go shopping with my mother.

I postponed getting ready, for favor of the steaming tea and assortment of fruit and scones that the house elf had placed neatly on my freshly made bed.

Why did I have to do this anyway? I sighed to myself, trying to come up with excuses for why I suddenly couldn't go. When I remembered that backing out of this meant I had to discuss why with the Dark lord, I swallowed every gripe and complaint I had about the two weeks of awkwardness I was about to endure. I had to do this—for the Dark Lord. I needed to make sure I remembered that.

Once the breakfast tray was clear, I regarded the time. It was twelve after six. I nearly panicked. I wasn't packed yet, nor had I even begun to dress for the day.

I shuffled through the bags, selecting a lilac cotton dress, with a gathered scoop neck and tiny sleeves. I figured it would be comfortable, and not too binding. I was going to have to sit down for hours.

I wondered idly if I were going to get cold, so from the same bag I withdrew a light tan cardigan sweater with large wooden buttons.

Regarding my reflection in the mirror, I barely recognized myself. It was definitely a shock. I took a deep breath, reminding my time I was on limited time to get ready. I hurriedly put my half dry—starting to frizz hair into a side ponytail, applying some crème to make the curls attempted to be manageable. I threw on a long strand of pearls, swiped mascara over my lashes and selected a pair of flowered print flats that complimented the dress that I had on. I looked like I was wearing a costume. I hopes that the people that I encountered today didn't see through the disguise.

With four minutes to spare, I grabbed my wand, gathering all of the items I needed to pack. Thank god the clothes I'd purchased still sat in their bags, I didn't have to worry about what clothes I would need to make this charade believable.

With a minute left on the clock, I was wheeling my suitcases down the stairs rather awkwardly, a large brown leather bag casually slung over my shoulder. I didn't realize how heavy they were. And they were just awkward shapes.

Draco stood in my foyer—wearing a pair of dark khaki pants and a navy blue polo. It was unsettling how blue his eyes looked.

"Do you feel weird?" I asked, easily trying to make conversation as he helped me pick up one of my suitcases.

"I don't feel awake." He muttered rudely.

"Excuse me for trying to make conversation with you." I responded, grabbing my suitcase from him, "I don't need your help!"

I nearly toppled over, trying to maneuver both suitcases. I did need his help, I knew that. But I wasn't going to admit it to him. I didn't know why, but I had this complete and total undeniable anger towards him.

"Don't be ridiculous," he moved quickly, stepping in front of me, "Let me take those." I opened my mouth to object, but he was already turning around and walking out the front door...easily with both of my suitcases.

I followed behind him, both exhilarated by his presence, and dreading of the twenty hour trip I was about to face.

"I—" I stopped, barely sure of what I was going to say to him, "Thank you." I said lamely, struggling to keep up with him. He carefully sat my suitcases down by the awaiting chauffeur, then opened the car door, allowing me to step inside.

I quickly slid onto the black leather seat, and he silently followed me. All of a sudden I was so confused, I could see the ring that Flint had given me so clearly in my mind. With attached promises of a future that we would plan together as soon as I returned.

But for the first time in a long time, I realized that I was sitting next to Draco Malfoy. And no one was around. No meddling socialites to judge me for acting to flirtatiously. My parents weren't around to criticize my choices. And Marcus wasn't around to nab me about how I'd given him my word to give him a shot.

And for the first time in a long time, I wasn't pressured by society to act a certain way. I wasn't worried about the consequences of my actions, because for the next two weeks—I'd be hundreds; maybe even thousands of miles away from everyone I knew. And I had a strong feeling that what happens in America, stays there.

I took a deep breath, letting my posture relax and affirmed to myself the freedoms I was gaining. I sighed, exhaling so many days of confusion, worry and bad decisions.

"What?" he looked down at me thoughtfully.

"I just realized something, Draco." I began, and then I reiterated my thoughts to him, "We're free for the next two weeks. We get to do the things that we want to do. Make the decisions we want to make regardless of what we know life has already chosen for us."

"I thought that you were happy with the decisions your life had chose for you."

"Who is to say that I'm not?" I replied, instantly offended that he'd automatically assumed I was talking about our relationship, "I'm talking about the freedom. We're free from that archaic society. We can live in the nineteen nineties, instead of the stone age for two whole weeks."

He looked at me with a bewildered expression, "I thought you loved it."

"Why do you think I stayed gone so long?"

He looked hurt, and didn't say anything but turned to stare out the window. I ran through the mental records of the conversations that I had had with draco since I had returned from paris. I never once talked to him about being absent from this society except for the first night I saw him. We still hadn't talked about anything. He hadn't even asked—or taken the initiative to learn something of my life the last six and a half years. Unlike Marcus; who had wanted to know every miniscule detail of my life for those years.

I wonder why Draco didn't care…I closed my eyes, leaning my head against the cool glass. Draco had always not been confrontational with his feelings. He waited around, sulking sometimes even until he couldn't stand it any longer.

Maybe he was still too baffled by life to wonder about my decisions.

Or maybe; maybe it was that after six and a half years—he just didn't care anymore. That was probably it, I assured myself. I would be willing to wager that it was. Twenty galleons and my new Chanel handbag.

I slumped into my palm, realizing what a mistake (for the hundredth time) that Bella had made in pairing us up. There was too much in the way for us to even do our task correctly. Knowing her, she had thrust us together in hopes that we'd come home completely besotted with each other, like we had been seven years ago…or even seven days ago.

I had written off that incident as pent up emotions from the last several years. We couldn't be held responsible for those actions.

I closed my eyes, tighter than I had been, dispelling from my mind all that I had been arguing about. I was on vacation. I didn't need to worry about anything.

"Are you excited?" I asked, trying to change the subject.

"I suppose. Although I hardly fancy this transportation…it's going to take us twenty bloody hours to get there?" He remarked conversationally. I was thankful that he hadn't brought up something that wasn't important.

"I know. I can't believe Bella thought that would be appropriate. If anything? It's a waste of our time." I would have added that it was a waste of our money as well, but that was far from the case.

"I completely agree. Though you know what her motivations were, don't you?" He asked, looking at me with those unbelievably gorgeous blue eyes of his.

I swallowed hard, reminding myself of so many promises that I'd made, "Yes."

He grinned, and his whole face lit up, "Typical of Aunt Bella. She was hoping that the twenty hour flight would somehow bring us together." He voiced what I didn't want to hear, "She loves you like her own family, you know."

I smiled, "I know. And in a lot of ways, I wish that she was my mother instead of the one I have. I know that's terrible to say."

He laughed, "You've only been around her for a few weeks, and you're already sick of her again?"

I crossed my arms haughtily, "You know how nagging she can be Draco. And she always has to get her way. I feel like I never get a say in anything." He chuckled nervously, tugging at his collar.

"I remember what your Mum was; is like. No wonder you stayed in France past the first summer."

I could tell that he wanted me to continue. He left that statement so open for continuations on my part, "There is so much more to it than you know." I replied vaguely.

"Then tell me." Were we really having this conversation now? "What are you waiting for? We have all the time in the world."

"Actually, Mister Malfoy—we don't at the moment. We have arrived at the airport." The chauffeur interjected. Chauffeurs were always so nosey. The pretended like they weren't listening, but they always were. They were probably to blame for most of the gossip being spread around society.

The airport was loud. Stupid muggles ran around in all directions. Some stood, joyously accepting the arrival of another—while others cried at their loved ones departures. the whole place looked so utterly normal…and boring.

Draco and I checked into our flight, and had to wait twenty minutes to even board our plane. Twenty whole minutes. That was an absolute outrage. It was twenty more minutes of completely awkward silence between us.

. * . * .

"Hey," I felt a jostle on my shoulder, I ignored it as I was too comfortably snuggled into my pillow, "Hey you." The voice repeated, jostling my shoulder with more force. I groggily snuggled up to the pillow, unwilling to open my eyes.

"What?" I muttered.

"It's almost lunch time," Draco replied, "The um,"

"Flight attendant," I heard a woman's voice interject.

"The flight attendant wants to know what you'd like for lunch." I muttered something so incoherent even I didn't fully understand it.

"She'll want the lemon pepper chicken," I heard Draco rattle off, "And sweet tea as the beverage."

I usually would have argued that he was ordering for me, but firstly—I was tired. And secondly—that sounded really good.

I waited until I was certain the _flight attendant_ had departed and set up, stretching my arms over my head.

"Have a nice nap?" Draco asked.

"Yes. That's the best sleep I've had in a while. And who would have thought it'd be on an aircraft?" He snickered. "What? Is my hair messed up?" He didn't say anything, "Oh god. I need to go to the ladies room pronto." I stood up, looking up and down the aisles of screaming children, and the snoring elderly.

I remembered the safety instructions (Ones that Draco and I had laughed off, knowing if anything happened we could stop the plane from killing us all) and recalled the location of the restrooms, I frantically walked down the aisle, trying not to make eye contact with anyone.

Locking the door behind me, I stared deep into the mirror. My hair looked fine. My mascara hadn't run. And that's when I noticed the drool on my cheek. After all of the embarrassing things Draco has seen me through, I didn't find myself fazed. I was just miffed that he had laughed at me instead of telling me.

I fluffed my ponytail, not completely satisfied with the way my hair had dried, and after a final once over in the mirror, exited the bathroom to rejoin Draco.

"You do know what you were using as a pillow, don't you?" He asked as I had sat down.

I looked around my seat, looking for something that I could have used as cushion. And that's when it dawned on me. I hadn't used a pillow. I had been sleeping on his chest the entire time.

I'd felt so peaceful. So at ease in my sleep. I hadn't felt that in weeks; well I had at one time. And that's when the puzzle pieces snapped together. The last time that I'd slept so soundly was in Draco's arms. And that had been exactly what I had just done.


	16. Chapter 16

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Disclaimer: I don't support Voldemort.

Disclaimer: When I was at Hogwarts, I was in RAVENCLAW. Represent!

. * . * .

I looked at the watch (on my wrist, naturally) for the tenth time. It was only one o'clock in the afternoon? How could it only be one o'clock in the afternoon? That made next to no sense. Surely my clock had found a way to change times as we traveled through different time zones. Surely this was not the time of my homeland—because that would mean…sixteen more hours until I was off this treacherous thing?

I could kiss taking a nap goodbye. I was wide awake. I begun to nervously pull at the necklace I was wearing, twisting the beads around.

"Stop fidgeting." Draco snapped. I narrowed my eyes at him and slowly crossed my arms over my chest, "Sorry, but that sound is so annoying."

"You didn't have to snap at me," I commented, "And that sound is annoying? I think you're annoying." I instantly regretted saying that, as soon as the statement left my lips I could hear how childish it sounded.

"I said that I was sorry." He replied. A few moments passed, and neither of us said anything, "So when's the wedding?"

Oh, that was a fantastic subject change.

"What wedding?" I asked icily.

"Oh, don't act like that party the other evening wasn't a pre-engagement party. '…_A toast to a wedding in our future_!'" He even made air quotes.

"Nothing has yet to be decided." I replied, "Not that it's any of your business." He laughed coldly at my attempt to wound him emotionally.

"So you're telling me that Flint hasn't even given you a ring?" He asked sarcastically. I didn't say anything, but I suppose even after so many years away he could still read my silence, "Oh, so he did?"

"Why does it matter if he did?" I bitterly turned to look out the window, facing away from Draco.

He laughed—like he was truly enjoying this, "Oh, that's hysterical. Let me guess—he gave it to you the last time he saw you before you were leaving to spend all this alone time with me? He probably said something lame, like—just look at this ring anytime you question your future. Know that this ring is a reminder of what our future is going to be like," he continued laughing, having no idea how close he was to reality.

"For your information it was very sweet."

"That's not sweet." He objected, "That's stereotypical. It's not romantic at all. He gave you the ring as a promise to the future. But if you're not feeling that way now, how can that be a promise to the future?"

"How do you know we're not feeling that way now?" I barked, "And just because that's a promise to our future doesn't mean that we're not feeling anything for each other."

"So you love him?" He asked simply.

I closed my eyes, afraid that I might cry. Because right now, deep in my heart I knew that I didn't love him, "We'll have the rest of our lives to learn to love each other."

"You didn't answer my question."

"Flint is handsome, he's caring, he's sweet. I like him a lot."

"But like isn't the same thing as love," He quickly responded.

"Why do you care?" I turned to look at him. He opened his mouth sheepishly, and then closed it suddenly.

"I—" He stopped, "I, well, I don't care. So what's your ring like? Emerald, isn't it?"

"I fail to see how that's important." I crossed my arms over my chest, getting frustrated at his inability to let this go.

"Sure it is. Why?" He shrugged his shoulders, "Because I happen to recall a certain girl ranting one afternoon in my backyard about how she didn't want a traditional engagement ring. She didn't want emerald, if she ever got married. She wanted something huge and sparkly."

"That little girl had a fascination with anything shiny," I defended, "I happen to find tradition refreshing."

"Which is exactly why you ranted previously about your excitement of the next two weeks—the fact that you were free from a stone age society. Free from the traditions that anchor us into behaving without passion."

"I didn't say that last part." I remarked, not even bothering to comment on anything else. He was right. And he always called me on my bullshit.

"You didn't have to."

I took a deep breath, "I hate the ring. It's not that I don't like Flint, like you'd like to believe but that this whole ordeal is moving way too fast. But that's the way it has to be in our reality, isn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"We don't get a say in our future. We don't have the luxuries that someone like…like, Granger would have. Our parents decide for us. My parents have decided on Flint. And I have to be happy with that."

"My parents are pushing me into an engagement with Pansy."

"Pansy would be more than thrilled to be given that opportunity." I remarked, "She's only been dreaming about it for the last six years."

"How do you know?" He looked at me oddly. I had said too much.

"Well, I'm just guessing. I don't know how long her infatuation with you has existed, but trust me. She'd sell all of her shoes to get the chance to marry you. You might have to invest in extra mirrors for your home though. Other than that, you two will be perfect together."

"Are you saying I'm shallow?"

"No, that's not it at all. You and Pansy just don't enjoy deep conversation." I knew even before I said it that it wasn't true. Or at least it hadn't been years ago, things could change, right?

"You've been gone for seven years. Don't pretend like you were just gone for the first summer. Don't pretend like you completely forgot about me. I know that you didn't."

I sat completely speechless, yet at the same time so infuriated. From this frustration, I felt my eyes begin to water up—like the girlish girl I was.

"Are you crying?" He asked softly, turning my face to see his.

"No," I stubbornly pushed him away, crossing my arms. "Why would I be crying?" I spat.

It was his turn to be speechless. He just watched me, his face full of concern much to my disgust. I didn't want him to be worried about me; I was much too frustrated with him at the moment for him to model such behavior.

"I'm—"

I cut him off, "Don't say that you're sorry. It's not needed. Stop apologizing about everything. It's frustrating."

"Why?" He asked, seeing through me yet again, "I can tell that you're upset."

"Let's just drop it, okay?" I asked, "I want to have fun. We're going to America. For all intended purposes this _is_ a vacation."

"Did you read the itinerary?" He asked, I was thankful that he had gone along with my request to change the subject—once and for all. I was baffled at his question though, and I nervously begun spinning the beads on my necklace again. He gave me a warning look, I rolled my eyes.

"There was an itinerary?"

"Yeah. Bella planned the whole trip, she kept saying—_it has to be believable, right_?"

"Just like the fact that we're sharing a bed instead of a double room." I replied stonily; to which his only reply was manic laughter. Side clutching, doubled over, ringing through the room—everyone staring at you laughter, "What so funny?"

"Bella had her fun with this, didn't she?"

"What do you mean?" I asked.

"You know what I mean."

"No, Draco, I don't. If I did, I wouldn't have asked."

"She wants us to…" He shrugged, the laughter completely gone, "be together or whatever." I put a hand to my temple.

"Why does every single one of our conversations go back to us? No matter how normal we try to make things." I took a deep breath, "That's always where it comes back to."

"Why do you fight it?"

"Why do I fight what?" I hissed, trying not to raise my voice as I was certain that we'd already gained far too much attention.

"This." He gestured towards us.

"It's not my choice, Draco. Nor is it yours. You know that."

"What if it could be?" He asked, raising an eyebrow, turning his torso to where he was leaning over the seat, his body instinctively leaning in to me.

"That's impossible. I'm all but technically engaged. And from the small details you've told me, I would assume that your life is headed for that direction as well. It's too late at this point." I replied, keeping my voice emotionless. Blocking my mind instinctively from forming a vision of a future I could have with Draco. Just the vague, underlying thoughts made me weak in the knees. I suddenly remembered that small satin box, nestled into my suitcase somewhere. The twinkling emerald ring was the symbol of the future I had. It provided the constant reminder of what I would return to.

"For the next two weeks we have to pretend to be a couple." He pointed out. I sighed. How had I managed to forget about that?

"We're going to have to work hard at it too, with the way we argue."

"We shouldn't have to work at it." What he was suggesting was completely ridiculous. Beyond ridiculous. It was so absurd that there wasn't even a word to describe it.

"And why is that?" I asked quietly. My voice was shaky, yet firm. It had a longing, yet it forced the end of this charade.

"Don't act like you don't know why."

"I'm not acting like anything."

"Like hell you aren't!" He raised his voice loudly, I gave him a warning look. He bent over again, leaning in towards me, inches away from my face, "You know exactly what I'm talking about. Admit it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," I huffed, leaning towards him angrily, "Though what you're insinuating is ridiculous. You want us to let everything go and just be together for the next two weeks? That's stupid."

"Why is it so stupid?"

"You know why. We both have people waiting for us to return. You have Pansy, and you know that I have Marcus." I really enjoyed this newfound information. It made it easier for me to not put so much blame on myself—for daresay I admit it; for hypothetically ruining my chances with Draco, "It's reckless and dangerous."

"Why, though?"

"Because! If we get too used to these two weeks, then what on earth are we going to do when we go back to England? If you fall in love with me, or daresay I fall in love with you—we're screwed. Don't you see that? If your parents are pushing you into a relationship with Pansy, then the concrete of your life has already been poured. Mine is drying. Only with our families, it's not like concrete. It's like shatterproof glass. There's nothing we can do to break the lives that have already been chosen for us."

After that, he was silent. He very silently adjusted himself in his chair, to where he sat facing forward. He grabbed the strange ear muffs from in front of him—the ones that the air attendant had told us would give us sound to the muggle film at the front of the cabin.

I could hear the sound from his ear things blasting into my personal bubble, and I knew that the conversation was over.

I didn't try and change his mind. Instead, I fished in my purse for a book to read. Anything that would get my mind off of the conversation that we'd just shared. It worked.

It worked so well, that suddenly it was dinnertime and I hadn't even bothered to look at my watch—despairing over time's inability to move once.

I didn't realize how much time had progressed, until I had read two thirds of my novel, and the flight helper had returned to request our dinner preferences.

After she left, I was surprised to hear Draco ask, "How is your book?" That was a perfectly normal question. I was just curious to see if we could keep a normal conversation. I somehow doubted it, figuring all of the unspoken things between us.

"It's pleasant. It's something I've read a time or two," I finished conversationally.

"And yet you're reading it again?"

"I enjoy it." I put my book away, realizing that I wasn't going to be able to read any more for the present, "Did you enjoy the film?" I continued pleasantly.

"Not really. It was typical of muggles. The same good conquers evil plot. When will they learn that it's the opposite way around?" He smirked, straightening his collar.

"Draco Archibald! Don't you—"

He cut me off, "Get used to it. Merlin knows you should be by now."

I found myself staring at him. At how much bluer his eyes looked, which if I noticed one more time it would become redundant. I just couldn't get over the light that shined in them. I'd never noticed how clear they were. They always seemed so dark. And his hair—which he'd no longer kept slicked back, but instead neatly parted and out of the way was hanging lightly over his forehead—so casually. His eyes so lately had looked completely hooded, his face almost devoid of life. He looked alive again.

"Why are you staring at me?"

"You just look so different." I replied, "And not in the 'I haven't seen you in a hundred years way,' In a completely different way entirely."

"It's not as much of a shock as how different you look." He replied, "It's almost like you're a whole different person. And the clothes for me aren't that much of a change. I've worn khaki's before. But you're wearing a light purple dress."

I laughed lightly, "I know." My laughter subsided into giggles, "I can't contain my excitement at getting to wear pink."

He raised an eyebrow, "You can't?" He laughed lightly, "I can't say I'm surprised. Even you as a tomboy enjoyed the color pink. Although, I hardly thought you were a tomboy then."

"Sure I was," I objected, "I was always hanging out with the guys."

"While that is true, you still acted very much like a girl. You freaked out when your hair got messed up when we played quidditch." I smacked him playfully on the arm.

"So did you!" I responded childishly. He grinned, bringing so much warmth into his smile.

"So?" He chuckled, leaning over the arm rest once again, leaning towards me.

"Well, you're being a little hypocritical," I teased, "Besides. I was the one who beat up everyone. That makes the tomboy."

"You punched Flint once. I was the one who bloodied the noses," He called me out on it.

"Okay, fine." I sighed, grinning like an idiot, "I wasn't actually a tomboy."

I didn't realize how much I had leaned towards Draco. Until his face was inches from mine and all I wanted to do was scoot even closer. To smell his aftershave. To feel the slight stubble against his cheek. To feel his lips pressing against my own. Draco's face was contorted with the same thoughts.

I quickly (not to mention awkwardly) stretched backwards, away from him. This seemed to let him snap out of his reverie as well.

I stretched, "I wonder what the next film is going to be." I tried to take the focus off of how closely we were sitting together.

"Probably something rubbish. But what else do we have to do?" I laughed lightly, and grabbed my ear megaphones.

I couldn't stop running the image of Draco so close to my face through my mind. Which was only worsened when I recalled sleeping his arms earlier. And a few days ago…which led me to recall something else entirely.

I closed my eyes, replaying the images in my mind. And before I knew it, I was asleep.

. * . * .

At some point in the night I stirred, I felt so at peace and so warm. The headphones from earlier had been removed, there was a blanket covering me. I was laying on Draco's chest. He was dead to the world asleep, clutching me tightly in his arms.

I was in bliss. I didn't wake him up. I quietly pulled myself closer to his chest and let myself re-enter dreamland.


	17. Chapter 17

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

. * . * .

"Attention Passengers—we are about to approach our destination. At this time, please fasten your seatbelts. Thank you for flying British Airways." I jerked awake, still latched onto Draco's chest. The quiet plane was slowly coming back to life, lights were coming on and people were scurrying about, getting their things together.

Of course Draco was still sleeping. He looked so peaceful—I almost didn't have the heart to wake him.

"Draco Darling," I cooed, "Wake up." Like last time, he only pulled me tighter—like I was only real in his dreams, or something. I tried again, "Draco. You need to wake up—we're about to land."

He stirred, mumbling nonsense. I was finally able to wake him up a little bit, and detach myself from him. He kept my hand nestled in his, clung to my fingers like he needed them to sustain life. I didn't mind. It felt nice to feel so needed.

"Well, that hardly seemed like the torture I imagined it to be." I laughed lightly as the flight helper once again alerted us that we would be descending soon.

"Why did you think it was going to be torture?" He asked sleepily.

I laughed, feeling a desire to tell the truth, "Because I'd be stuck with you." I teased.

"Oh, thanks." He replied sarcastically.

"Well you know what I mean," I commented, continuing with, "We're doing quite well, aren't we?"

"Aside from earlier, yeah." He finished laughing.

The airport in California was the same as the one in England. Only the people were dressed differently, and they talked differently. Other than that it was the same as what I had seen previously. I was too tired to pay too much attention to the airport.

There was a stout, balding man in a suit waiting for us with a sign that read simply, "MALFOY PARTY." Draco led the way, keeping a firm grip on my hand, and hiding me slightly behind him.

"I'm Mister Malfoy," His face was instantly back to normal. He looked so intimidating—and not a force that you would want to go against. But at the same time, his face was lined with darkness. He looked so angry, so upset, so…depressed.

And that's when I remembered what my mother had told me—how I had forgotten, I couldn't begin to know.

He killed Dumbledore.

"Yes, Mister and Misses Malfoy, come with me and I'll take you to the inn." He replied with a bow.

I didn't take in much of the ride to the inn—and thankfully it was a short one. It felt so early in the morning, but here the night was still so young. It was strange, to put it simply. My mind was swimming with how I was going to talk to Draco. And for him to be here, right next to me—and remembering that; I couldn't let it go.

I needed to know what had happened. I needed to know that he was going to be okay, because from the looks of it—I didn't think he was.

"Stop staring at me like that," He asked, pushing my bangs out of my face.

"Like what?"

"We're here!" The chauffeur cheerfully announced. The inn resembled the leaky cauldron from the outside, but the inside was much classier, less rustic. Everything in the decor was clean lines, and neutral colors. It was nicer than the cabin feel of the leaky cauldron.

The chauffeur brought our suitcases inside, to only have changed hands to one of the servants working the inn, we quickly checked in and headed for our room.

It was still a shock to see the single bed, even though I was prepared for it. The room looked so romantic, with dim lighting and light gauzy fabrics everywhere. As soon as the servant had sat our things down, I turned to Draco.

"We need to talk," I said quietly, trying to gauge his reaction.

"If you want me to sleep in the floor, that's fine." He said running his fingers through his hair.

"No." I said quietly, walking towards him and taking his hands into my own. He turned his head to look at me, he had to look down—and the gap between our height made me giggle a little bit. Remembering what I needed to talk to him about killed any happiness that I'd just gained, "It's about something my mother said the other day. Something she said that you did."

"What is that precisely? If she said that I sleep with half the girls at Hogwarts, then she's wrong—I don't know why that deception has been spread around so freely." Once again, I could help but giggle. I knew well those rumors weren't true from what I'd heard from Pansy.

"That's not it, stop changing the subject. She said that any mission I was assigned with you was going to be dangerous." His face fell, "Because of what you did last." I continued, watching him with weary eyes, "She said that you killed Dumbledore."

He took a deep breath, looking away from me.

"Draco, look at me. I don't care if it's true or not—I don't. I just want you to be honest with me about it."

"Yes."

"Yes what?" I asked, scrunching my brows up.

"I was assigned to kill Dumbledore." He said, "I was supposed to stage an attack on the whole school. Seeing Potter frantic was more than enough to make me try for that. My Dad had been arrested, and sent to Azkaban. He failed to obtain a prophecy for the Dark Lord. Naturally, he was furious—so he assigned a task to me last summer." I felt silent tears fall from my eyes, "I had to see it through—I had too. I couldn't let my mother down. She begged me to take back the task, but how could I?"

"You did what you had to do for your family, Draco. No one can be upset with you for that."

"I couldn't do it, though." He replied quietly, staring over my shoulder, out the window into the darkness.

"What do you mean? Everyone says that you did."

"Snape killed him." He looked me directly in the eyes. "No one else was there—no one else saw. And he told me to keep it that way." I felt myself breathe a sigh of relief. I let his hands go and hugged him tightly to my chest, "What is that for?"

"You don't get hugged enough, I don't think." I tried to smile, but it was mostly lost. He laughed lightly, but his voice was still strained, "Are you okay?"

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. "Truthfully?" I nodded, moving for him to continue, "I don't know. If Snape hadn't killed him—and stepped in at the last minute, I—" He took a deep breath, and looked at the carpet, "I don't think I could have. Sure, at that moment I was furious with Snape for stepping in. At that moment, I was so sure that if he had not interfered I would have finished him off. That's just it though—I hesitated. Dumbledore pathetically tried to reason with me. He tried to tell me that I didn't have to do that, and he could protect my family."

He laughed bitterly, "But no one is safe."

I felt the tears falling harder now, and couldn't help but hug him again. I was overwhelmed by all of these feelings that I had for Draco—feelings that, dare I say it? Reminded me an awful lot of love.

"It's okay, Draco," I tried to sympathize, but I knew that I was going to do a bad job at it. I had never almost killed someone, "It really is."

"No it's not. I failed, Hayley. I couldn't kill him. That's all I was supposed to do—kill him. His health has been going downhill, he was already ill. He barely gave a fight. And I couldn't do it."

"Shhh," I murmured, brushing the hair back from his forehead, "That doesn't mean that you failed. It truly doesn't. It just means that you weren't ready for something like that."

"We're on the brink of war, Hayley. We have to be ready for that."

I didn't say anything, the shock of his words overcame me and I just stood there, staring at my hands.

We were on the brink of a war. We were both going to have to kill people—we both might even die in war. It was at that moment I realized the full burden of the mark on my arm.

"I don't want to talk about this anymore," He yawned, "I'm getting tired—I'm going to go change into my pajama's."

And at that, the conversation was over. Usually when he ubruptly ended a conversation by walking out of the room, I was infuriated. Tonight—I was relieved. I mechanically changed into a pair of cotton shorts and an oversized t-shirt. And then, I sunk into bed, completely incapable of thought.

I stared at the ceiling, and for the first time in my life questioned if the side I had chosen was really what I believed in.

Draco and I should stay here in America. We should start over, be together, change our names, our appearances, and escape from that world—free of whatever strife, terror and outcome may result.

I knew that was completely unrealistic. We couldn't run now.

But the other part—the part about being together, now that…that wasn't entirely unrealistic. If it was all a part of the façade, we couldn't be blamed for playing the parts we'd been given.

I suddenly felt the weight on the bed shift, and turned to face Draco. In the darkness, his eyes glittered strangely. I could barely see the blue.

"So I was honest with you," He began, "Now I want you to be honest with me."

"Okay." I vowed.

"Why did you stay away?"

"Mum and Dad left for Isle Elladora—Blair and I went to France instead to stay with Grandmum. After what Emma did, we all needed to get away. From all of the whispers, all of the horrible looks that everyone else was giving us. The plan originally was for us to all return back home after the summer was over—a week before the start of term at Hogwarts.

"I came home with them—as did Grandmummy, and during that week Emma visited. She brought Charlie with her. Not actually with her, but he was staying at an inn a few miles away." There were only two people I had ever talked to about this with—my sister, Blair, and my grandmother. "She was so sure that my parents, after seeing her happiness at her elopement, that they would accept him with open arms the way that his parents had so freely accepted her. Only they didn't. My Mother told Emma that she was dead to her, the least of the nasty things. She threatened to do awful things to her if she didn't leave. And that she never wanted to see—or hear from her again. That's when I realized that my mother was a monster. And that's when I decided to go back to France, and stay away from her as long as I possibly could."

"Why didn't you tell me that then?" He brushed my hair out of my face, pulling it back onto my pillow, "I would have understood—I would have helped."

"It's not that big of a deal, Draco."

"Yes it is. I was your best friend, you should have felt that you could tell me."

"I didn't think you'd want to talk to me."

"You mean after our fight?" He asked quietly. I hadn't thought of that fight in years. It was right after Mum and Dad had discovered that Emma was in love with Weasley. I had gone to Draco, startled and upset for some kind of comfort—something to help ease the situation. He had laughed, and told me that what she was doing was against our ways. That she was rubbish. And I had punched him in the face. His voice was pleading as he continued, "I told you a million times that I was sorry. And I am."

"I know, and I forgive you—I do. I'm also sorry for punching you. But I didn't think you'd want to talk to me—and if I had, at the time you would have said I told you so."

"No, I wouldn't have." He defended himself.

"Yes, you would have. But that's alright." I took a deep breath, "It's that you're not saying it now that counts."

"I'm glad you finally shared that with me." I was glad, too, "I guess it's goodnight then?"

"One more thing—" I began, afraid I'd lose my nerve if I didn't say it now, "Remember what you asked me earlier?"

"I asked you a lot of things earlier." He laughed lightly.

"About the next two weeks." I hinted.

"Oh," He looked embarrassed, even in the darkness.

"I've been thinking," I took a deep breath, "And let's do this. Let's drop everything, and not fight it."

"What about if I fall in love with you? Or if you fall in love with me?"

"I don't think that's an issue."

"Why not?"

"Because, regardless of what our parents wish, and regardless of the situation at home—it's already true."

"Are you saying that you love me? What happened to _Flint is the perfect person for me_?"

"I'll be happy with him," I answered, "But this is our only shot. For the next two weeks, I want to be happy with you."

He didn't say anything. He didn't make any comments about how we were going to get in over our heads—because Merlin knows it was already too late to say that.

He kissed me. With so much passion, and intensity that it felt like he'd been saving up that kiss for the last seven years.


	18. Chapter 18

ikDisclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter.

Sorry 'bout the delay. I've been BUSY and sick. Hopefully I'll get back on track! :) My life has slowed down to a boring day to day kind of deal, so I should actually have free time to write these!

. * . * .

I woke up to the sound of an owl tapping on our window. It was a sound that I found most discomforting—after all; who would be writing us all the way over here?

I kicked the blankets off my legs, and groggily got out of bed. I ripped the curtains back, disconcerted by the light pouring into my room. I turned around to see if Draco had even woken up—sure enough, he was stretched out, faintly snoring.

I unlatched the window, surprised to recognize my Mother's owl impatiently awaiting for me to take the scroll from its outstretched leg. Her owl was just like her—it was true what they say about your pets. I took the scroll rather unwillingly, and watched as the creature vanished into the dim morning light.

I tiptoed into the bathroom, carefully shutting the door behind me. I sat on the edge of the tub, and precariously unrolled the scroll clenched between my fingers.

"_Hayley—" _It began_…_

_I have talked to Bella about what is planned for your free time on this visit. I couldn't help but remember an exquisite wedding dress shop there. Perhaps you could take a gander at the gowns? It's not too early to start looking for one. Surely Draco won't mind—Send him my congratulations on his upcoming engagement. What a lovely match!_

_I've called ahead to the shop, they're expecting you within the week. I can't wait to see what you find! I know that Marcus already misses you!_

_Mum_

I couldn't help but laugh—loud, unrestrained, laughter in which it was only natural that my head fell back. I was consumed with my laughter that I didn't notice Draco entering the bathroom.

"What's so funny?" He asked groggily, pushing his hair back from his face, clearly disoriented and not even slightly awake.

I couldn't help but laugh harder.

He walked over, and sat down, leaning his back against the base of the tub, and leaning into my left leg, "What on earth is making you laugh this hard?" He looked at me with a lopsided grin on his face.

"We can't escape," I shook my head, "It's almost foolish that we even thought we could try."

His face instantly fell, "What do you mean it's foolish? I thought we agreed that we would."

I wordlessly handed him the letter. He took it cautiously, and I watched him read it. His expression went from blank, to disbelief to humor.

"She knows about Pansy already? Merlin, news travels fast."

"I'm supposed to go shopping for my wedding dress?" I asked, looking at my toes.

He rested his head against my knee, pulling onto my leg. It was almost like old times. I collapsed into my hands, staring down at him at an angle that wasn't awkward in the least.

"We said we were going to leave that all behind with us, Draco. It's following us. Maybe this is a sign." I sighed, moving my left hand to muse with his hair. He looked up at me, his face solemn.

"No." He answered me firmly.

"No?" I felt my eyebrows knit together in confusion.

"This isn't a sign. It's just your mother meddling. We're going to ignore this—except for the shopping part. But we'll pretend it's under different circumstances. Maybe this new version of us haven't gotten engaged yet, but we wanted to take a "gander" and look at some wedding gowns. We can still have this."

I took a deep breath, after the last twelve hours, I wanted that more than anything, "We have to acknowledge though that this is going to be hard on us when we get back to England." I said quietly, sighing deeply.

"Like you said last night, there's really no point in behaving otherwise now."

"I don't know."

"There is no logic to this—you've always had to appeal to logic. Even when were kids. But that's okay. There doesn't have to be logic. We left logic in England. There's nothing that you should know or not know. Just feel. That's all I'm asking you. Is to just feel whatever it is that you do." He replied slowly.

I took a deep breath, "It looks like we need to get ready to go to dress shopping."

He looked up at me, so carefree in his gaze as he stood and kissed me on the forehead. "Let's grab some breakfast first."

The last 24 hours came back to me all of a sudden, and I couldn't wait to get out of my clothes and take a shower. "I'm showering first," I claimed.

"I thought we'd shower together." He replied ludicrously.

"Draco!" I chastised.

"I was only joking."

"Hardly," I snorted, rolling my eyes and pushing past him into the room. I walked over to my suitcase, pulling out my bag of toiletries and shuffling through my clothes, looking for a suitable outfit. It was quite a bit warmer today than it usually was at home.

I chose a khaki high waisted bell skirt, that was only a few inches longer than my fingertips. I also selected a three quarter length sleeved button down shirt that was the lightest pink. I grabbed a dark chestnut belt from my accessories bag to put over the waist of the skirt, and after selecting undergarments hurried into the bathroom—very careful to lock the door behind me.

The water hitting the muscles in my back felt amazing—totally phenomenal as I continued to let my body relax. That's what this was. A vacation. An escape from reality. I needed to tell my mind that I wasn't in the real world right now. That I was free.

It was a hard thing to convince myself, after years of the freedom living away with from my parents had presented to me, I'd fallen back into the swing of society life without blinking.

It's all in England, I told myself for the thousandth time. I wanted to do this, just thinking about the way I'd felt sleeping next to Draco last evening was enough to convince me of that.

And that's when I knew indubitably. I was going to do this.

I stepped out from the shower, dressing quickly. I kept a towel wrapped around my head and exited the bathroom humming to myself, enjoying the feeling of my feet caressing the carpet.

I sat down in front of the mirror; it wasn't a vanity—more of a desk, but I would have to make do. I slowly unpacked my makeup, my brush, my perfumes and crèmes and set them up on the desk—forgetting that I wasn't alone, I even hummed a little under my breath.

"You are so much more of a girl than anyone knows," I stopped dead in my tracks, swiveling around with my hand on my hip.

"And that's a bad thing?"

"Not even slightly," He looked at me, his eyes smoldering—I felt my stomach flutter, "Considering that I'm in love with my best friend, It would be a great misfortune were my best friend male."

I started blushing, wanting to turn away from him, but I knew that I shouldn't. I held his gaze, staring into his eyes knowing that our time was limited. I needed to stop worrying about that.

"I suppose that it would be quite a misfortune, indeed."

"Quite?" He laughed teasingly, "More than quite. I would get disowned by everyone I knew."

"That is more than true." I replied, "Now go shower. I'm hungry."

"Yes, Ma'am."

I rolled my eyes as he saluted me, before exiting the room into the bathroom. I sat down at my makeshift vanity and just stared at myself for a moment. The color in my skin, made my cheeks look so rosy. I slowly did my makeup, playing with colors that I was never expected—even allowed to wear. Instead of enhancing the pale, I played with the natural golden tint in my skin. I used a bronzing powder for the first time in my life, warming my complexion in ways I'd never even thought of.

When I was finished with my makeup, my face appeared fresh and dewy. I took the towel down from my hair slowly, applying some crème to it and then tying a gold ribbon through it. By the time I was hooking a pair of three drop earring (Each drop was a small ball, covered in white metal flowers with little gems at the center) Draco was exiting the bathroom fully dressed—in a pair of dark khakis and an olive colored v-neck t-shirt.

"Wearing green?" I teased.

"It's hard not to." He replied truthfully, "I'm so accustomed to it. Besides, it's not _Slytherin_ green, so no one will notice anyway."

I laughed lightly, rolling my eyes. Fading back to earth I couldn't help but sigh about the way that his hair messily fell about his face, flicking towards his eyebrows.

"What? Is there something on my face?" He asked. I supposed I'd been staring for too long.

"No, I like your hair better that way."

He straightened up a little bit, I could see that the compliment went to his head. Which to be entirely honest, I'd say that I'd be surprised if it hadn't.

"What?" He looked at up at me from tying his shoes, "Why do you look irritated right now?"

His question through me off guard, people always told me that I was hard to read. I hadn't seen him in so long, he shouldn't remember me as well as he did…I shouldn't remember him as well as I did.

"Remind me not to compliment you." I replied, putting my hands on my hips, and turning away from him to find shoes.

"What? Why?" He sounded offended, I heard the bed springs creak and his feet echo across the floor towards me.

"You always get the same smug look on your face. It's so deprecating."

"You behave the same way when delicate compliments are bestowed upon you." He countered, "Besides, we're purebloods. We are better than everyone else. We already know that we're beyond spectacular. It's just nice to hear reaffirmed."

I dropped the shoe in my hand. "Bullshit." He looked surprised, "I know that's not lady like of me. But Draco, that is utter bullshit." I wanted to throw the shoe in my hand; instead I took a deep breath and slid it onto my foot, "You're not that guy." I added quietly.

"You don't know anything about the guy that I've become."

I stopped everything that I was doing and regarded him silently, solemnly even. Here I had spent all this time thinking that everything had fallen back into place as if those last seven years hadn't happened. It was at that moment that I knew that I was wrong. Those seven years had happened, and in their wake was a huge, meteor sized hole in what we thought we knew of one another.

I looked at him, breathing deeply, "You're right. I don't know you."

"Hayley," He said softly, standing up and walking over towards me, "I didn't mean it like that." He said softly, grabbing my hand, and turning me to look at him. I wanted to laugh at how soft he was being.

"I'm not mad. It's true. We can't pretend like we didn't live seven years of our lives, and that we're not different than who we once were." I replied shrugging.

"So are you saying that…last night…?" He trailed off quietly.

"No," I shook my head, "All I'm saying is let's get to breakfast. We have a lot of catching up to do."

"Okay, so who was your first kiss?" I asked, going with the string of conversation. I didn't think about the fact that I already knew the answer to that question before I'd asked it. "Oh," I laughed lightly, "I asked that before I even thought about it."

"Oh wow," He laughed lightly, "Well that's one milestone that you witnessed."

"More than witnessed," I teased.

He smirked, "How could I forget? You were the one who came onto me." I looked at him seriously.

"Even back then, in my tomboy days, I was still a proper enough girl to know that a lady never makes the first move." I responded, straightening up and regarding him stonily.

"You always say you were a tomboy back then. I don't know where that's coming from."

I scoffed, "Surely Draco, you must be joking." I frowned, "And don't think you can change the subject so easily."

He laughed lightly, "I kissed you, I know." He cleared the air, leaning forwards a little bit before continuing, "But why do you act like you were a tomboy?"

"You can't be serious," I laughed, "I was tougher than you were."

"You were a loudmouth, and you talked big." He said, "But you weren't a tomboy. I hardly saw you without a ribbon in your hair."

"Then why did you act so shocked when you saw me?"

"No one had seen you in years. Not even a picture of you. I expected you to be pretty, but I didn't expect you to be a goddess."

I looked at him, narrowing my eyes with a blank expression, "That sounds like the kind of bullshit that Flint would feed me."

"So you admit what he says is generally bull?" He countered.

"I'll be happy with him."

"That's not what I asked."

I took a deep breath, "Yes. Some of the stuff he says, is utterly ridiculous. He's always playing the game." I replied, "And the game is fun to play along to."

He sighed, and opened his mouth like he was about to say something.

He didn't have to—nor did he. We both could feel the heaviness of what wasn't said.

That what would have happened if I hadn't played along to the game that Flint was spinning. If I hadn't given him reason to hope that I possessed feelings for him.

And it was then, looking at Draco, thousands of miles away from my family, my friends, and my soon to be fiancé that I realized. I had said those thing, acted the way that I had, and led everyone to believe things that weren't true…to make Draco jealous.

Then again, I'd always known that it was Draco that I wanted to spend my days with, not Marcus Flint.


End file.
